Slow Burn: Part Two
by The Girl with the Mousy Hair
Summary: Part two of the Slow Burn Trilogy. Gene and Sam explore the new element of their relationship. Gene/Sam slash.
1. Chapter 1: Let's Spend the Night Togethr

Chapter Eight - Let's Spend the Night Together

As Sam shuffled his way into the main room, Gene stood and watched. He couldn't believe what had just happened, what he had just done. What about all that stuff he'd decided about pulling himself together and ignoring all these feelings? He felt out of breath, as though they'd just had another fight instead of kissing. He stripped his gloves off, tucked them in his coat pocket. He'd never kissed another man before. With the exception of one or two conflicting reports from some parts of his brain, he was shocked to find that he'd enjoyed it. His body certainly had, there was no denying the stirrings he'd had in the trouser department as he pressed his lips to Sam's or the flush in his cheeks now. He was buzzing. Christ, it was almost as good as punching the man.

He followed Sam out, now, to find Tyler sitting on the bed, wrestling off his shoes. There was no fresh blood on his face; even though he knew it wasn't broken, he had been afraid they might have set it off bleeding again just now. When they kissed. _I've kissed a bloke. _He kept returning to it, trying to fit the concept into a brain that had long since outlawed that kind of behaviour. Sam was finally in his socks, and boosted himself up on to the bed properly, leaning against the wall where a headboard would go if he'd owned such a luxury. He saw Gene come out of the bathroom and gave him an unusually shy grin. Gene kept his face straight, wanting to attend to the next bit of business, which would involve a large Scotch unless he was very much mistaken.

'Got a freezer, Tyler?' he asked, brusquely. Sam's grin faltered as he replied.

'Eh, yeah. Yeah, there's a freezer box at the top of the fridge. Why...' Gene didn't wait to hear the question, but turned and stepped up to the appliance in question. Sam leaned back and shut his eyes. He heard rummaging and a bit of banging, accompanied by some low-level swearing. There were some clinking sounds next, which made Sam open his eyes again, and he saw Gene over-burdened with one glass, one mug and a balled-up tea towel. He looked around for the table and put everything down, then took the few steps over to the bedside.

'Here,' he said, thrusting the tea towel at Sam. Sam had no clue what he was supposed to do with this and didn't reach for it immediately, looking questioningly up into Gene's face.

'It's ice, for your nose. Bring the swelling down. Stop it hurting. Go on,' he said, offering the bundle again. Sam was touched; even though the Guv had given him the burst nose in the first place, he'd never have expected him to try to make amends. He took the makeshift ice pack and applied it to the bridge of his nose. It felt good, and he stretched his eyebrows up to settle it in more closely. Of course, this meant that he couldn't see what Gene was up to now, but he was almost glad of an excuse not to look at the man. Gene was acting like nothing had happened, and Sam didn't know if he could bear to have this, whatever this was, offered and withdrawn again so quickly. He concentrated instead on the soothing cold on his bruised face, and on listening to Gene's movements.

First he heard the camelhair coat come off, and he pictured Gene hanging it on the coat rack. Next, he heard the glass and mug clinking together, and the unmistakable sound of a Scotch bottle being opened and poured. There was a sudden quiet cracking sound; Gene had even put ice in the drinks. That was practically a cocktail, by his standards. Sam heard some shuffling around then and another bit of banging and swearing, this time coming closer to the bed and ending in a soft thump. Finally, he heard Gene turning to the table and back, and presently the mug was pressed into his free hand, handle positioned so it was easy to grab. He took it, with a nasal 'thanks'. Gene sat down in the chair he'd dragged over - probably the armchair, it was marginally less uncomfortable, even if it was a bugger to move.

Sam carefully lifted the ice pack away from his nose and looked at it, checking for any blood on the towel. There was none; he thought he'd avoided a broken nose very narrowly, but avoided it all the same. He took a sip from his mug, looking out over the rim at Gene, glad to have a barrier between them. Gene was sitting forward, elbows on knees, holding his glass in both hands. He leaned forward as he asked 'How is it?'.

Sam swallowed his whiskey. 'Not too bad now. Thanks for the ice. And the medicine.' He raised his mug a little to illustrate his point. Gene flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and was gone before it really got started. He was still trying to process what had happened in the bathroom, and trying to think what to say next. Should he ignore it, pretend it hadn't happened? Should he tell Tyler now that it had been a mistake, brought on by high temper and strong liquor? That was at least partly true; if they'd been sober, none of this would have happened. That didn't mean that Gene wasn't glad it had happened, which was the most confusing part. He was still trying to figure it all out when Sam spoke.

'Gene...' he started, sounding unsure and not looking over at him any more.

'Yeah?' Gene kept his tone neutral.

'Are you gonna send me back to Hyde now?'

This was an unexpected consideration; it had no more occurred to Gene than it had occurred to him to get on the radio and tell the night shift at the station how he'd almost broken Sam Tyler's nose, but it was OK because he'd kissed it better.

'And lose my best man? You _are_ joking me,' he replied, voice almost outraged. Sam chanced a look over, at that, a hesitant smile starting at the corners of his mouth. 'Of course not, Sammy-boy.' He took a drink, swilling the cold Scotch around his mouth. Sam looked relieved.

'So...' he started again.

'Oh, spit it out, would you?' Gene was rattled, because no matter what Sam was going to ask next he didn't think he knew the answer.

'I'm sorry, will we just talk about football instead?' Sam asked waspishly.

Gene had been right; he didn't have an answer to that, or to anything else except perhaps 'Are you going to need lots more Scotch?'. Well, he always said that if you had nothing to say, you'd better say nothing, and sat quietly in the worn armchair. He felt a bit like he was visiting Sam in hospital, which might not have been out of the question if things had gone just a little differently earlier. The thought made him shiver. Sam noticed.

'Cold?' he asked, a certain iciness in his own tone. Gene could have lied and agreed with him, but decided to try for the truth.

'Not cold. Scared. I could have broken your face there.'

Sam looked back into his chipped mug, swirling the drink gently against the sides. He nodded slowly.

'You could. You wanted to, as well.'

It was Gene's turn to be surprised, and Sam lifted the ice pack back to his face, obscuring his eyes. He thought about denying the accusation, but it hadn't really been said that way. It was just a fact, they both knew that Gene's temper was on a hair trigger, and it wouldn't have been the first time he'd put someone in an ambulance. It had never been one of his own men, though. Never.

'Never,' he said out loud, half to himself. Sam gave no reply, eyes still closed and whiskey held loosely in one hand. 'I would never.'

'Didn't seem that way, did it?'

'I know. I'm sorry.' He couldn't believe he was apologising for the second time in one night, but what else could he say? Sam managed to take a sip of his drink without dislodging the ice pack, making a quiet noise of appreciation as it hit his throat.

'Is that all you're sorry for?' he asked, after another pause. That was a loaded question, and no mistake. He kept his face covered, obviously finding it easier to ask that way. Gene took his time in answering, spinning this awful moment out a lot longer than he wanted to.

'No. I mean, yes. I mean... I don't bloody know what I mean.' He took a large draft of Scotch, striking out for inebriation again after this whole sobering experience.

'Me neither Guv. Not much change there though, half the time it's like you're speaking another language.' He peeked out from behind the bundle at his nose, then, and Gene rewarded him with a laugh huffed out through his own nose and a cynical purse of the lips.

'Look who's talking, Tyler,' he replied, his tone lighter than the words suggested. Sam's eye closed again, and a faint smile touched his lips. He settled himself more comfortably against the wall, legs stretched out ahead of him. He'd sat near to the edge, leaving almost enough space for someone else to fit in, if they didn't mind the close quarters. Looking at that space, Gene felt a bit uneasy. Was he going to get into bed with Sam later? The question made him nervous, which was not a feeling he was normally at home to. He didn't seem to be having any regrets about crossing this line with Sam, not yet anyway, but there was crossing a line and there was stampeding over it like a herd of elephants. He wondered what Sam would do if he got up and sat down next to him, maybe even held the ice pack for a while. That thought was so un-Gene Hunt that he laughed a little. Sam heard him.

'What's funny?'

'Me playing ruddy Florence Nightingale here.'

'It is a bit,' Sam agreed. 'You're not doing too badly, though. Ice and whiskey, two key components in any medicine cabinet.' He took the ice away again, wrinkled his nose carefully. 'It feels a lot better now. It was just a nosebleed, nothing broken. Probably no black eyes, either.' He turned his face towards Gene now, as though to show off the lack of black eyes. Hunt nodded sagely, eyes roving across that face, checking for injury.

'Think you'll be fine, Tyler.' Both men tipped up their glasses in unity, then, an unplanned move that was nevertheless perfectly synchronised. They both drained them, and Gene returned his to his knee.

'So...' it was his turn to be hesitant now. Sam regarded him, blinking a bit groggily. Gene thought that events were catching up with the DI, maybe even a bit of shock setting in.

'...d'you want me to go, then?' He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be. He felt like he might never be sure of anything to do with Sam Tyler again. Sam continued only to look for a while, and Gene wondered if he should repeat himself, but before he could, Sam started to shake his head.

'No. I don't want you to go. Will you stay?'

Gene nodded firmly, finding that he was gladdened by the answer. 'I'll stay. Got to make sure you don't go slipping into a coma in the night.' Something about this struck Sam as funny, and he laughed for a long while. He wiped his watering eyes when he was done, held the melting ice pack up to his nose again and stuck out his empty mug at a bemused Gene.

'Give us a top up,' he said, voice still full of good humour. Gene wasn't sure what that was all about, but he'd take the laughing Sam over serious Sam any day. He took Sam's mug and stood up, adding another generous measure of whiskey to it and to his own at the little table. When he turned to go back, he realised that he had a chance, now, to change seats, to get closer to Sam again. In the end, he couldn't make himself get onto the bed, but made a compromise by dragging the armchair around after he'd handed over the drink, so that he was sitting closer. He didn't think they'd need another drink after this, the adrenaline from earlier was fading, and while he still had a lot of questions to ask himself, dog tiredness would probably win out.

'What a week,' he said, leaning back in the chair and propping his elbows on the arms.

'You can say that again,' Sam answered. They sat silently, contemplatively sipping their whiskey. Sam felt much calmer than he'd have given credit to not so long before. A lot of that was sheer tiredness, but now that something had actually happened with Gene he could stop worrying about it. Alright, it brought up a lot of questions, but he could face them in the morning. He thought back to the kiss, which had been over before it really got started. He closed his eyes, fully recalling the moment. It left him feeling a little breathless, the ghost of Gene's lips brushing his own making him tingle again. The power of the man, all contained and focused on that one small area, was more intense than anything Sam had experienced in years. The thought of experiencing it again made him feel a twitch of longing under the blanket of weariness. When he opened his eyes, Gene was looking at him intently, seeming to read his mind. He leaned forward in the armchair, putting himself right on the edge of the seat. Sam didn't think, but slowly slid his legs off the side of the bed and sat upright, facing Gene. Their knees were touching, and Gene parted his so that one of Sam's legs fell between them. He leaned over and put his mug down on the floor.

This time there was lots of opportunity to change his mind, to lean back again, but Gene didn't take it. He wanted to kiss Sam again, he couldn't deny it; the time for outright denial had been left behind in the pub. He watched as Sam leaned in to him, this time, inching closer and watching his eyes for any sign of refusal. Gene felt like a speeding car in an action film; out of control, but slowed down so you could experience every moment in glorious technicolour. Sam was breathing hard, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. As Gene's eyes were drawn to those lips, Sam closed the narrowing gap between them, holding his head at an angle to protect his nose. He met Gene's lips and held still, just as Gene had earlier, with them barely touching. He flickered his tongue out again, the tip of it lightly touching the bow of Gene's upper lip as it passed. Gene heard a high ringing in his ears, felt his heart pounding beneath his shirt. He didn't move though, wanting Sam to take control. The puffs of breath from the other man's mouth were almost too much to bear, but if he made any sudden moves he might hurt him, and right now he felt like he never wanted to do that again.

Sam finally pressed their mouths together properly, sealing the kiss. As their mouths opened, Gene reached out a hand and cupped the curve of Sam's jaw. His thumb rested on the man's cheek, his fingers threaded into the short hair on the back of his neck. Sam sighed softly as they kissed, leaning a little further in. He slid his tongue across Gene's upper lip and back into his own mouth. Gene felt a thrill that ran right down his spine and lit up his groin. He waited for Sam to use his tongue again, then met it with his own. He couldn't control a shudder when they touched, but he was careful with his hand, which was now sliding down the back of Sam's neck, thumb tracing a line from cheek to collarbone. Sam brought his own hands up and buried both of them in Gene's hair, running his fingers through it as though he'd been holding back from doing so only with great difficulty, for God knew how long. Gene's hand slid down Sam's bare arm, coming to rest on the firm curve of a compact bicep. Sam brought his hands round to hold Gene's face, fingertips tracing over the scars, one thumb touching the corner of their rhythmically moving lips. This sent another wave of excitement into the pit of Gene's stomach. Sam moved his hands back to loosely link behind Gene's neck before breaking their lips apart, tipping his head forward to lean their foreheads together instead. He gasped in a huge breath, puffed it back out again. Gene removed his hand from Sam's arm and put it back in his hair, cradling the back of his head with strong fingers. He was out of breath, too, and lit up like a Christmas tree. It had never been like this before, not even when he was seventeen and randy all hours of the day and night. He kept his eyes closed, leaning against Tyler and basking in the glow they'd created between them. He did what seemed natural, then, and shifted a little, guiding Sam's head so that their faces were now side by side, cheeks sliding against each other, and drew him into a hug that said more than he would ever be capable of expressing in words. Sam laid his head sideways on Gene's shoulder, wrapping his arms further round the man's neck. Gene kept his hand in Sam's hair, gently running his fingers through it, marvelling at the way short hair felt under his palm. They both breathed deeply, in synch and connected, until he felt Sam move a little.

'Gene?' His voice was muffled.

'What?'

'Are you still holding your glass?'

There was a pause.

'Might be.'

Another pause.

'Well, you never know when you might be thirsty.'

Sam started laughing, sitting upright again. He reached down for his own drink, and tilted it towards Gene.

'Cheers,' he smiled, flushed and happy.

'Cheers, Sam.'


	2. Chapter 2: An Occasional Dream

Chapter Nine - An Occasional Dream

Sam woke up with a start and a strangled cry - not such an unusual beginning to the day, for him. What was unusual was that someone else joined in.

'What?' shouted Gene, sitting bolt upright in the armchair.

Sam snapped his head around, frightened by the new voice. He saw Gene and his eyes lost their wide, panicked look, as he dropped his head back to the pillow. 'Nothing. Bad dream.' It had been one of those ones with clips and snippets from 1973 mixed in with flashes of 2006, all threaded through with his mum's voice, Maya's voice, the doctors' voices. He felt homesick, frightened, close to tears. He was lying on his front, and he took an arm out from under the pillow to rub his eyes. There was never anyone here to witness these kind of mornings (or any other kind of mornings) and he was embarrassed to be seen like this, waking up screaming like a girl in a horror film, damp round the eyes.

'You scared the shit out of me!' Gene's tone was as belligerent as ever. Sam didn't have the strength to argue the injustice of this accusation.

'Sorry,' he said, shortly.

The events of yesterday were crowding round now, trying to shoulder the remnants of the nightmare back into the dark corners of Sam's mind. That's why Gene was there, he'd stayed the night after headbutting Sam in the face and then bringing him back here to clean it up. They'd kissed - twice. Two kisses; it sounded like so little when you thought of it that way. Not even as many kisses as he'd put on the end of a text message. No hands below the waist, not even any upstairs inside, as Ray would put it. Two kisses. One huge can of worms.

Gene had slept in the chair, deciding that there wasn't room in the bed and, perhaps, not really feeling comfortable sharing a bed with Sam even if there had been room. Sam could empathise with that, if it was the case. He'd shared a bed with other guys, when there had been a shortage of space and once in a hotel booking gone wrong situation, but it was all a bit different when you'd had your tongue in their mouth beforehand. Even through the aftermath of the dream and the rising hangover he was getting, the thought of putting his tongue in Gene's mouth still sent blood shooting southwards and a shiver rippling down his back. This was going to be a mess, he could tell already.

Gene had heard Sam complain of bad dreams before, but he didn't know what to make of this dramatic start to the day. He'd thought that people only woke up screaming in films. There was no doubt that it was absolutely genuine, though - Tyler looked like a man right on the edge, crossing his hand over his face to try and disguise it but obviously shaken. He felt bad for shouting at him but bloody hell, what a way to get woken up. What with the shout from the bed, the lingering taste of Scotch at the back of his throat and the fact that he was in an armchair in Sam Tyler's flat instead of at home in bed, his waking moments had been a bit of a riot of confusion. Everything had come back to him in one hammer blow of memory, once he'd got past the fright of Sam's wake up call, and while at least now he knew what he was doing here it did raise some bigger questions. For one, what in the name of Christ had he been thinking last night? He'd been drinking, alright, but until now he'd have said there wasn't enough drink in the world to have him snogging another bloke.

At least he'd woken up with most of his clothes on, and on the chair instead of in bed with Sam. Even after kissing him last night, he hadn't felt the urge to let things go any further. No, that was a lie - he'd felt an urge, but Gene Hunt did not get into bed with people on a first date. Not that they'd been on a date, even - and he couldn't imagine it happening in future, either. Him and Sam, in the back row of the cinema? Or going out for dinner in a restaurant with linen napkins and too much cutlery? No way. So what did that leave, then? Did he want to write last night off as a moment of madness, try to go on as normal and never think of it again? It was too much to try and decide without a bit of a run-up. And maybe a stiff drink.

For now, he decided to try for normal, and see how it went. Sam had rolled onto his back and lay silently looking up at the ceiling. He seemed to have recovered himself to a point, but looked tired, and unless Gene was mistaken there was definitely some bruising across his nose. As Gene tried to think of something 'normal' to say, Sam beat him to it.

'You know, it's usually around this time that you start hammering the door to tell me we've got a shout,' he said, in a dry tone.

'I only do that when _you_ don't answer your phone. Or when it's really important. Or maybe sometimes if it just seems a bit quicker...' Gene realised that he didn't have a leg to stand on here - he did tend to come round unannounced, had never really thought about it before. Sam gave a flat smile.

'Let's hope nobody else comes round looking for me instead, anyway. This'd be a difficult one to explain.'

'Nobody else'll be awake, it's a Saturday morning,' Gene said, avoiding the real question. Sam left that hanging for a minute, but didn't pursue it further. He knew that whatever happened, or didn't happen, between him and Gene, it would have to be kept secret. That went without saying, and since the most likely thing was that last night would be the full extent of their extra-curricular relationship, he supposed it didn't really matter. He tried to tell himself this in a matter of fact tone, but to his mind's ear he sounded disappointed, defeated. Now that he'd let his feelings for the Guv through the internal smokescreen, he knew he would be miserable to have to pretend they didn't exist again. Anyway, it was pretty clear that it wasn't currently up for discussion. He settled for sitting up, blanket pooling round his waist, and saying, 'Let's head in then. Paperwork won't do itself.'

Gene grunted at this, obviously not relishing the thought.

'Come on, Guv - maybe there'll be a nice murder for you to deal with, eh?' He was mocking him a bit, but the day hadn't started too well and, besides, he was feeling self-conscious now. He wanted to get some clothes on, get out of the flat and try not to act like a girl with a crush on a pop star. He knew he could manage two out of the three, anyway.

Gene nodded. 'Yeah alright Tyler, no need for sarcasm. It's the lowest form of wit, you know.' He stood up, putting the blanket over the back of the chair and looking around to locate his suit, which he'd draped over one of the wooden dining chairs. He walked over to them and lifted the trousers, stepping into them quickly and zipping them up. He stripped off the vest he'd been sleeping in, and lifted his shirt from yesterday. He looked at it critically, but it would have to do. He wasn't going home to get changed, and at any rate they'd been out in the car all day yesterday, nobody except Sam would notice a second day shirt. He could have a wash and a shave when they got there. He pulled the shirt on and started buttoning, keen to be fully dressed again. Then it might seem like any other morning that he'd called round to pick Tyler up on the way to a job and he might start feeling more sure of himself. As he knotted his tie round his neck, he wondered if he could smoke in the flat without it being a theatrical production of pointed coughs and opened windows.

Sam had swung himself out of bed, and was looking out some fresh clothes for the day. He was still as he had gone to bed, clad only in his boxers, and Gene found himself tongue-tied for a moment. He recovered enough to manage a curt 'Got an ashtray?'

Sam looked round, as though surprised from deep thought. 'Eh... yeah. Yeah grab a saucer or something from the cupboard.' He walked out of the way, then, towards the bathroom where he could get dressed in private. Gene let him pass before heading over to rummage through the crockery, and Sam went through the screen door and pulled it shut behind him. It wasn't used to being pulled over, and resisted him with squeaks and judders. God, the last thing he wanted was to draw further attention to this. It wasn't like Gene hadn't seen him in the buff before, but that had been then. This was now, and things were different. Besides, that time hadn't exactly been a barrel of laughs for him - for the rest of the squad, yes, and he could do without a repeat of that. He knew it was unlikely the Guv would mention it to anyone but it was just one more reason to be shy. He finally got the door mostly shut and stripped off his boxers. The smell of smoke began to drift in from the other room. He noticed his shirt from last night still in the sink, where it had been forgotten, and stepped up to take a look. The bloodstain wasn't as bad as he'd feared, but he thought it might still be a lost cause. He looked up in the mirror to check his nose, noticed the bruising there and wrinkled it up in dismay. It was a little sore, but nothing like last night. Those bruises would face soon enough, too. Luckily he was a quick healer.

Looking in the mirror brought back memories from last night. Unbidden, the feeling of Gene's glove-clad hand on his waist rushed through his mind and made him catch his breath. Shaking his head, he went back to getting dressed - he'd follow Gene's lead on this one and put off a proper shower until later. A bath would have been even better, but he was lucky to have a toilet and shower in here as it was. Now and again, though, he did long to soak his aching muscles in a long bath, preferably with a glass of wine and a good book. His flat back home had speakers wired in to the bathroom so he could pipe in his music _du jour_ as he soaked_. _He realised what a middle class picture he was painting, and snorted a dry laugh at himself. It was like looking at a scene from a science fiction film, now, thinking back to his flat back home. Boxers and jeans safely on, he lifted the shirt into the shower stall for now and ran some water in the sink to splash his face with, making sure to be careful around his slightly tender nose. He glanced in the mirror again, thinking that one day of stubble was probably OK for a Saturday shift, and dried himself off. The shirt and the bloodstained flannel that accompanied it went back in the sink, which he filled with cold water. They could soak in there today - it probably couldn't make them any worse. He buttoned on the fresh shirt, snagged his boxers off the floor and went back to the hated folding door, wrestling it back open. He found Gene sitting at the table, feet up on the second chair, smoking. He'd opened one of the windows, a surprising gesture of consideration on his part. Sam dropped his boxers in the laundrette bag that he had tucked in one of the corners, and went in search of socks.

'Thanks for opening the window,' he said, wanting to try some positive reinforcement in case it influenced Gene's behaviour in future.

'Well, it was stuffy in here anyway,' he said, obviously not wanting to be seen being too thoughtful. Sam pulled on socks and finally shoes, which had been lying tumbled on the floor next to the bed. Gene stubbed out his cigarette and stood up when he saw that Sam was ready.

'Right. Ready to go?' He seemed to be avoiding Sam's gaze. Sam knew how he felt - he didn't really want to bring up the subject of last night, but he had a feeling that if they walked out without mentioning it, and pretended it hadn't happened, it would be definitely over. If Gene kept acting like nothing was wrong, Sam would probably never have the guts to bring it up again, too afraid of ridicule or anger. He didn't want it to be over. He wanted Gene to promise they could talk about it, wanted him to tell him there were no regrets, wanted reassurance. He knew he was unlikely to get it but he still lingered over lifting his coat, delaying the moment that he opened the door to the outside. He realised he hadn't answered Gene, and opened his mouth.

'Ready as I'll ever be,' the cliche fell from his lips, on autopilot. Neither of them was looking at the other, still, but there seemed to be no further reason to wait. Since he was nearest to the door, he decided he'd better just accept the inevitable and get on with the business of getting over this whole extraordinary encounter.

As Sam's hand landed on the lock, Gene spoke again.

'Tyler...' he began, still not knowing what he was going to say to follow that up, but feeling that _something_ had to be said. Sam stopped, but didn't turn.

'Look, about last night...' His heart was beating hard now, more than he could attribute just to the early morning nicotine rush. He wanted Sam to turn round, say something to let him off the hook, but he just stood there, one hand raised to the door, back turned. Gene had no idea how to finish that sentence, and stood open-mouthed until Sam finally did turn his head over his shoulder. He thought he could see some of his own feelings in those brown eyes. He couldn't believe that he was the one bringing this up.

'...it was... I was...' God, he sounded like an idiot. Tyler was doing this to him on purpose, leaving him standing here and stuttering. The unaccustomed uncertainty coupled with this thought started to make him angry - an emotion he was much more comfortable with.

'Look, I was pissed. We were both pissed.' He saw a dulling in Sam's eyes, a slight clench of his jaw. He still didn't say anything.

'So, you know, maybe we should just...' _Just what?_ What did he want? What did he think Tyler wanted?

'Just what?' Tyler finally spoke, saying exactly what he had been thinking. Gene still didn't have an answer.

'Just have a drink later on, in the pub, and try not to break each other's noses.' This wasn't at all what he had meant to say, but it seemed safe.

'And try not to accidentally fall on each other's lips?' Sam suggested, tone bitter. That wasn't safe. That was in decidedly unsafe waters, that remark.

'Maybe your moral compass isn't in very good working order, Tyler, but I've never accidentally kissed anyone in my life, thank you very much. Don't be a smart arse.' The man was infuriating, no doubt about it. But did Gene feel a certain pleasure in the banter? He thought he did.

Sam looked back up again, looking less huffy.

'Never?' he asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice and almost succeeding.

'No, never. But I think that is a conversation best had from the outside of several measures of Scotch, don't you?' Sam looked at him for a few seconds longer, then nodded. A glimmer of a smile played round his mouth as he turned back to the door again, finally opening it. He didn't mind going out, now. Nothing had really been said, but it was the right kind of nothing. The kind of nothing he could live with. The kind of nothing that maybe promised something, somewhere along the line.


	3. Chapter 3: Can't Help Thinking About Me

Chapter Ten - Can't Help Thinking About Me

Sam hadn't felt this way since his very first girlfriend, when he was 14. He could hardly think straight, and concentrating on writing up his report of the stakeout was all but impossible. Gene had gone into his office at first, but had returned into the main body of the room after a while, freshly shaved and carrying a pile of reports that he had to sign off. He sat at the desk facing Sam, pushing the assorted clutter off to one side to make room for himself. It wasn't unheard of for the Guv to come out of his office to work, but it was unusual, and Sam was finding it wholly distracting. All he could think about was kissing Gene, running his fingers through his thick hair. Each new thought sent a thrill through him, and the smell of the aftershave the Guv had applied seemed to be filling his head. He kept his head down but couldn't resist occasional glances over as Gene waded his way through reports from the other officers about the other cases that had been going on while the rest of them were on the stakeout. His own rate of work was unprecedentedly slow, and during one of the frequent pauses while he took a trip down memory lane, Gene spoke.

'You nearly done with that?'

'Er, yeah. Yeah, nearly,' he replied, not looking up but starting to write again.

'Good. After this lot it'll be a relief to read yours. At least you know where to put a comma.' Gene leaned back in his chair, looking tired, and found a cigarette to light. There was an ashtray on the desk and he moved it to within tapping distance, exhaling his first puff and propping his long legs up on the desk, knocking over a pile of magazines that would have had an officer up on a disciplinary charge in 2006.

'I bloody hate paperwork,' he said, moodily.

'I think you might have mentioned that once or twice, Guv,' Sam replied, wryly. He scribbled at the end of his report, trying to make up for his slow progress until now. Nobody else had turned up, even though it was approaching noon, and there were only the two of them in CID. A constable occasionally walked past the windows, and there was someone on the desk of course, but it was very quiet.

Gene eased himself out of his chair and strolled back to his own office, extracting one of the ubiquitous Scotch bottles and two tumblers. Sam heard this but kept his eyes on the page in front of him, still trying to get all the details down on paper and knowing that if he looked up again he'd run the risk of losing track. The Guv sat back down opposite him and Sam heard the familiar splash of whiskey, caught the medicinal scent. Gene leaned over far enough to perch one of the glasses on a pile of files, then sat back and put his feet back up, taking his own first sip with a hiss of enjoyment. Sam continued to write for another couple of minutes, during which time the Guv was mercifully silent, then added his signature with a hurried scrawl. _Thank God that's over_. The job had taken him three times as long as it usually would, what with his wandering mind and treacherous memory. He lifted the Scotch, feeling reckless. Usually he wouldn't accept a drink until after hours, but this seemed like a special case.

'Done,' he announced, before taking a sip. Gene nodded, looking absently out of the window. 'Where's everyone else today?'

Just as Sam said this, Ray and Chris came in together. They looked surprised to see the other two men waiting for them, and their faces took on a hint of sheepishness.

'Ah, the men of the hour,' said Gene, saluting them with his drink. 'How did last night go then?'

Ray broke into a grin, while Chris looked more sheepish, something at which he had a natural advantage.

'I got on alright, Guv, but Chris had a bit of a nightmare, didn't you Chris?' He walked to his desk, turning to look at Chris as he sat down.

'Er... yeah,' he said, obviously not wanting to share with the group.

'Tried out a new chat-up line, didn't you?' Ray said, teasingly. Chris began to blush, making a big fuss of taking off his coat and not answering.

Sam hated watching this. Ray was a bully, and Chris was too good-natured to tell him where to go. Sam was pretty sure that whatever this failed chat-up line had been, Ray was responsible for putting the idea in his head in the first place, probably with the plan of making fun of him when it fell on its face.

'Come on then Chris, what's the story?' asked Gene, a faint smile on his face. He wasn't as sensitive to the nuance of Chris and Ray's relationship, or if he was he didn't care. Or maybe he was just so familiar with it that he never thought twice about it any more. Chris couldn't hide behind his coat any longer and sat glumly behind his desk, eyes downcast.

'There was this girl I liked,' he started, looking for a cigarette to ease the discomfort of reliving the memory. Ray butted in.

'She were gorgeous, Guv. Huge...'

'Yes, thank you Raymondo, I believe Chris here was telling the story,' Gene cut him off before he could get started, though his hands were painting a very clear picture on their own. Chris lit his cigarette.

'Yeah, she looked really nice. So, we had a few jars, and then I went over to talk to her. I had it all worked out, you know, what I was gonna say.' He took another draw, mouth still downturned. 'But, you know, I had a bit too much Dutch courage and it came out all wrong.' He stopped then, and even Sam watched him expectantly, drawn in against his will.

'Well go on, what did you say to her?' asked Gene, leaning forward on his elbows, feet now on the floor in front of him.

'Well, what I wanted to say was "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Cos you must be an angel".' Sam rolled his own eyes, he couldn't believe that people really thought those lines were a good idea. Ray laughed roughly, increasing Sam's suspicion that he was behind this turn of phrase. Chris had tried to deliver it in a suave tone as he told the story, but the lukewarm reception sent him back for another puff on his cigarette.

'So, I go up to her, and I say "Did it hurt?" and she looks at me, and says "Did what hurt?". But then I got confused, and said "When you hit every branch on the way down?" You know, like that one about the ugly tree...' Sam and Gene were both nodding, Sam with a mild horror and Gene with a smirk that he wasn't quite able to hide. Ray continued to laugh.

'Well, she didn't like that. She said "What?" all high pitched and angry. So, I tried to fix it, and I got more confused, so I said "No, I mean, when you hit your face on the pavement." And then she poured a drink over me head _and_ slapped me in the face.' He had such a hangdog expression that Sam couldn't help a tiny smile. Poor Chris, he meant well. The Guv and Ray were both laughing now.

'Plenty more fish in the sea, eh Chris?' said Gene, when he'd finished laughing at Chris' expense. He nodded a bit glumly.

'Maybe leave the chat up lines to the professionals though, next time,' Ray added, finally lighting a cigarette of his own.

'What was your winning line then, Ray?' asked Sam, annoyed on Chris' behalf. Ray adopted the expression he always wore when he was about to tell an outrageous lie about his sex life, which was any time he talked about it.

'I saw this bird I liked, and I said to her "Nice dress. It'd look great on my bedroom floor".' He looked around for approval. 'And then she said...' The Guv interrupted him.

'Yes alright Ray, I don't think I can bear the suspense of the whole story. Did you get a result?'

Ray looked put out not to be allowed to tell the whole work of fiction. Sam excused himself for what he'd have called a 'comfort break' back home, but the first (and only) time Gene Hunt had heard him say that he'd laughed himself into a coughing fit, and Sam had reverted to some more vulgar expressions for the act. As he walked away he heard Ray begin his story.

'Course I did Guv, we went out into the car park...' The voice faded as Sam stepped through the swing doors, and headed for the toilets. Ray's stories about women were all the same; vulgar, demeaning and almost exclusively bullshit. Sam had once seen him turn round and run off when an attractive woman started flirting with him, completely out of his depth. _What a tosser_. He opened the door to the tiled bathrooms and stepped up to one of the stalls. He remembered hiding in the Railway Arms toilets last night, head buried in his hands, and shook his head at the melodrama of it all. That memory was soon followed by the thought of Gene saying '_It can be our little secret..._' and that gave him another one of those jolts. It _was_ their secret, now.

He would have to snap out of this mooning, swooning phase. It was bad for his self respect, not to mention his work rate. He felt powerless to help it, though; every time he remembered a new detail of their encounter (their _secret_ encounter) he felt a physical reaction. It was very much like the first time a girl had reached into his trousers; all the next day he had kept reliving the experience, a constant hard on making it impossible to concentrate. He had more self control now, but the similarities couldn't be denied. Even though the actual physical encounters with Gene had been brief, the atmosphere that had built up over the preceding week had lent a lot of power and charge to them, at least in Sam's mind. He tried to get a hold of his train of thought again as he washed his hands, when Gene walked in. Usually there was an unwritten rule about using the bogs at the same time, and if you _were_ in there at the same time you certainly didn't make conversation. Sam accordingly just gave Gene a sober nod, and grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands. The Guv made his way to a stall, so that his back was turned to Sam, and unexpectedly broke the second rule.

'You hate listening to Ray talk about women, don't you?' he asked.

Sam continued to rub his hands dry, widening his eyes as he drew in the breath to reply.

'Yeah, I do actually,' he said, trying to keep his tone light.

'To be honest with yer Tyler, so do I,' came the surprising reply. 'But I do it, because it's important that we're a team, and talking about women is one of the time honoured traditions of male bonding.' Sam didn't really know what to say to that, so he said nothing. He wondered if he was supposed to leave now, or if he should wait and see if the Guv had anything further to say. He didn't have to wait long.

'Some of Ray's hand actions were quite instructive though, you missed out there.'

Sam still didn't have an answer, but laughed through his nose and balled up the paper towel into a soggy mess. He tossed it in the bin and looked around at the Guv, who was now washing his hands at the sink. He continued the one-sided conversation.

'I've told them I want those reports by the end of the day, so that should keep their minds more than fully occupied.' Sam nodded, finally joining in.

'Still no shouts though?'

'Not a dicky-bird,' replied Gene, now drying his own hands. 'Still, something might come up.'

They left the bathroom together, now in companionable silence. As they got back to the office, Gene pushed the door open easily with one hand, and stepped back, holding it open. Sam stopped, a bit taken aback, and Gene gestured a tilt of the head.

'Ladies first, is it?' asked Sam, voice flat.

'Age before beauty, Sam.'

'You cheeky bastard.' Still, Sam stepped forward through the door, brushing close to Gene as he went, instead of opening the second door to give himself more room. He breathed deeply as he did so, inhaling aftershave and lingering smoke. When he knew his back was safely to the Guv, he indulged in a small smile. He'd forgotten how fun it was to have these feelings for someone new. Even if the relationship itself went nowhere, was in fact doomed from the beginning, you still had these early days of speculation and preoccupation to revel in. He and Maya had been together long enough for the shine to have worn off things. Their relationship was so tarnished in places that you could see the sharp core of resentment shining through. When he got home, he'd work on that. They both deserved better. They both deserved romance, desire, excitement. He felt a weight of guilt try to settle on him at that thought; he was cheating on Maya. Except that it couldn't be cheating, since none of this was real. He reminded himself of his earlier thought, that it was just like having a sex dream about someone; you couldn't be blamed for that. Even if it was a particularly lucid dream.

He made his way back over to his desk as he thought, and looked up to find the Guv taking the seat opposite again, watching him. He wondered how much he had given away in his face; probably more than he'd like. The Guv only raised one eyebrow before looking away to his whiskey glass. Sam could use some lessons in that kind of inscrutability.

Gene watched Sam's face, from a glimpse of a smile as he passed him in the doorway to the troubled frown as he sat at his desk. He thought he might be able to read some of those thoughts. Tyler had told him there was someone back in Hyde - even though he hadn't seemed to sure if that someone would still be there when he got back, the Guv thought that she might be preying on Sam's mind now. He was having a similar problem himself; the missus had left him, yes, but they were still married. Kissing Sam still made Gene a cheating husband. He had added this to the list of uncomfortable facts that last night's activities had brought up. Top of the list was the fact that he couldn't deny having been attracted to another man, that was a very uncomfortable fact indeed. Next down was the fact that this other man was attracted to him, too. After that it was hard to tell what order the problems came in, they were all equally bad. Cheating on his wife, having a relationship with a subordinate officer, almost breaking that officer's nose... They all grouped together in one big mess, all undeniable but somehow not enough to make him take the decision that he knew he should take: forget this ever happened, put it behind them. Tyler was a bit of a girl but he was man enough not to get hung up over something as little as a kiss, surely. They could just pretend it had all been a dream brought on by too much Scotch and a knock to the head.

The trouble was, he didn't want to do that. He was lonely. He hated eating on his own, going to bed on his own. The possibility of finding someone who wanted to spend those hours with him, someone who challenged him and, yes, who looked at him the way Tyler had been for this last week or so, was too good to give up, however faint and clouded with complications it might be. If he could have had his choice, he'd still have gone with a buxom blonde, mind you. A buxom blonde who could cook. Still, like the man said, you can't always get what you want.

He sipped at his whiskey, feet back up on the desk, enjoying as always the feeling of relaxing in his kingdom. Opposite him, Tyler was leafing a bit aimlessly through his report, maybe looking for any missing detail or maybe just trying to keep himself busy.

'You done with your masterpiece then, Tyler?' he asked, ready to sign it off without so much as a glance. He'd read enough of Tyler's work to know that it was always perfect to the letter. He might pretend to read it, though, for some reason the man seemed to take offence at the idea that nobody ever looked at his paperwork.

'Yes, Guv,' Sam said, handing it over to him now. He sat back in his chair when he'd done so, sipped a little from his glass. Gene took the file and spun it right way up on his lap, opening it to begin his cursory examination. He glanced over at Sam, who was gazing into the middle distance now. Ray and Chris were busy with their own reports, Chris with his face scrunched up in deep thought as he filled the page with his slow, careful writing. He felt safe in observing Sam for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. Wondering what would happen next. They'd be out of here sooner rather than later, if no jobs came up, and would they go their separate ways tonight? Gene wasn't up for another night in that box of a flat Tyler rather grudgingly called home, he knew that much. Sam looked over as he thought this, caught his eye. They both looked away quickly. God, were they back to this again? Making eyes at each other like schoolgirls? Not very manly.

Sam longed for a shower. He was aching after the fight last night, tired after his broken sleep. His hair felt heavy on his head, in need of a wash. As if hearing his thoughts, Chris broke the silence.

'What happened to your face, Boss?' Sam looked over at Chris' open, honest expression. Ray looked up, too, though he was clearly less concerned and more interested in hearing who'd had a go at Sam, possibly so he could buy them a drink. Sam reached up to touch his nose, instinctively.

'Me and the Guv had a bit of a... disagreement...' he said, lowering his hand again. The three of them looked at Gene, who looked back calmly, glass in hand.

'That's right. Tyler was casting aspersions on my judgement, I had to set him straight.'

Ray chuckled appreciatively, while Chris looked a bit puzzled, probably by the word 'aspersions'. Sam and the Guv coming to blows was nothing out of the ordinary, there was no need to make up any big cover story. Sam glanced back at Gene, and this time their eyes met for a little longer. He could have sworn that one of the blue eyes flickered shut in a wink before turning back to the report spread open in Gene's lap. This did nothing to aid his concentration.

After ten minutes, Gene reached for a pen and signed off Sam's paperwork. He added it to the pile he'd been working on already that morning.

'Well, that's that out of the way, thank God,' he said, taking another nip of whiskey as a reward. Sam got to his feet.

'I'll get them filed, then.' He walked around the desk to lift the files in a two-armed sweep. He wanted to get out of the office for a bit; a fug of blue smoke was beginning to form, even the dusty air of the paper archives would be a relief. Gene didn't say anything as Sam walked past, towards the door. He turned to push it open with his back, and reversed into the corridor. He gave a start when he felt hands on his back, and spun around, letting one of the files slide off the pile onto the floor. He found Annie standing before him, out of uniform, her hands raised and blue eyes wide with fright.

'Watch out, Sam!' she said, blinking away her surprise and starting to smile. 'You nearly ran me over!'

Sam smiled back. 'Sorry. Oh, no, here, I'll get that...' She had started to bend down to pick up the dropped file, and he crouched quickly to beat her to it. They both ended up reaching for it at the same time, and their hands touched briefly. Annie drew hers back, shyly, and looked up into his face. He smiled awkwardly and lifted the file, adding it back to the pile that he was now balancing on his bent knee. Her eyes widened again.

'What's happened to your face?' she asked, looking worried.

'Oh, it's nothing. Just been on the receiving end of a frank and open debate with the Guv, you know how it is.' Annie's arm moved as though to reach out towards him, to run her fingers over the bruising, but she stopped herself. Sam wasn't surprised - that kind of thing was more his style. He smiled at her to show that he was alright, but her eyes stayed serious, crossing the bridge of his nose and taking in the damage. Sam was glad she hadn't been there to see it last night, if she was worried about a bit of a bruise. They stayed hunkered down, Sam feeling renewed confusion and guilt with each passing second. He tried to remind himself that he shouldn't feel guilty when it came to Annie, she was out getting on with her own life. This reminded him of her plans for the night before.

'So how was your date last night?' he asked, not knowing what he wanted the reply to be.

'Oh...' she looked away from him then, gathered herself together and stood up. He followed suit. 'Yeah it was really nice.' She obviously felt uncomfortable talking to Sam about it. He wondered what she'd say if he told her about his own night, the whole story about the burst nose and the unexpected but welcome attentions afterwards. Trying to change the subject, she asked,

'How was your night? Heard you started early...' There was a hint of playfulness in her tone, trying to draw him into a pretend fight about bunking off a couple of hours before time.

'Well, couldn't let you have all the fun, now could I?' he teased.

'I think our ideas of fun might be a bit different, Sir,' she shot back, trying to wind him up with that '_Sir'_. He raised his eyebrows archly.

'Oh really, WPC Cartwright? Well that _is _interesting...' God help him, even when he'd spent all morning thinking about kissing their DCI, he still couldn't help flirting with Annie. He felt pulled in several directions at once, not in control of himself. She smirked at him.

'At least mine doesn't leave me with bruises. Not where it shows anyway.' This was extremely risque for the usually ladylike Annie, and Sam's eyebrows hiked up a little higher. She blushed and giggled, dropping her eyes and brushing imaginary fluff off her skirt.

'What are you doing in today, anyway? Thought you had the weekend off?' Sam asked her, trying to get back to business and away from the seductive pleasantness of this conversation.

'I do, I just had to stop in to get me brolly. Left it behind last night and you know what the weather's like round here.' He couldn't have hoped for something more bland to take the edge off their chat.

'True,' he said. He hoisted the files into a more secure grip, held them up. 'I'd better get these down to the collator's office.' She smiled and nodded at him.

'Alright Sam. See you on Monday, yeah?'

'See you then, Annie.' She walked past him without stopping for a so much as a pat on the arm, on her way to the locker room. He wondered if her new beau was outside waiting for her. He wondered if he was tall. Feeling a bit moody, he made his way to the dusty little room full of neglected papers.


	4. Chapter 4: Unwashed and Somewhat

Chapter Eleven - Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed

Sam spent another couple of hours with the paper archives, getting dust up his nose and a few papercuts in exchange for tidying away the precarious stack of files that had been collecting on the desk. He liked having things in order, was amazed by the lack of discipline that the others showed when it came to filing. There was no point in doing the stuff if it was only going to end up in a pile, how would anyone ever find it again? So he took the time to put the place in order, not rushing. It was good to keep himself occupied, and when he was finished he felt the satisfaction of a job well done. He'd also been glad of a chance to not speak to anyone, or see anyone, for a while, get his head cleared a bit. With everything else that was going on with him, you'd think he'd have the sense not to get mixed up in some secret fling with his boss, and maybe he did have the sense after all. A bit of quiet time seemed to have set his libido straight again, so to speak. He made his way back to the office and found it deserted.

There was a note in the middle of his clear desk.

_Got a shout. See you in the pub later. That's an order._

Sam couldn't believe they'd gone off without him. He'd only been down the corridor, for Christ's sake. He thought of Ray sitting in the passenger seat of the Cortina with a stab of jealousy. He didn't know what to do now - technically, he could go home, having nothing else to do and it being his sixth day in. He didn't like leaving the place empty, though. Maybe he would have a look in the Guv's office, see if there was any stray paperwork that needed sorted out. He was on a bit of a roll with that today. As DI he could sign off anything that Gene had missed, and anything that was completed could go in the newly re-organised collator's office.

He stopped at the threshold to the Guv's domain, hesitating before going in. It was weird to see it empty, to be here without the Guv. He breathed in delicately. There was still a hint of aftershave under the overtones of cigarette smoke. He stepped up to the desk and looked through the piles of folders, newspapers and magazines there. There were a few things that needed filed, and he gathered them up, taking pride in being the only organised officer in the division. He tucked the slim stack under has arm and strolled back out, meaning to take them to the archives. Just by the door, the Guv's litter bin sat. The cleaners came round on a Friday night, but there was something sitting in there. Must be from today. Sam almost walked past when he caught a glimpse of his name, and stopped.

Rooting through someone else's rubbish wasn't the kind of thing a normal, well-adjusted person would do. Sam knew that. But, he wasn't feeling particularly well-adjusted just lately, and crouched down to do exactly that. He lifted out three crumpled balls of paper, all from the same notebook as the note on his desk. He uncrumpled them and read them. The first said only

_Sam_

This was the one that had caught his eye. There were no other words. The second read

_Tyler, out on a shout. See you later in the pub, if you're up to it. I'll buy the first_

This one made a bit more sense, but Gene must have changed his mind about offering to buy Sam a drink, maybe thinking it too out of character. The last scrap of paper said

_Dorothy, Railway Arms, you and me._

This one must have seemed a bit too suggestive, reckoned Sam. He smiled to himself, thinking that nobody would believe the story of Gene Hunt writing four drafts of one simple note like this. He was oddly touched, despite the tone of the final version, and he smoothed out the crumpled pages and folded them absently into his back pocket.

He returned to the collator's office, shelving the new files in their proper places. Back in the office, it was still calm. Three o'clock and all's well, he thought. Three - was it too early to leave? If he hadn't been out in the car all week he probably wouldn't be there today at all, and he'd managed to get some good done while he was. He decided he'd pop out to the desk, have a chat with whichever PC was on, make sure everything was alright, then maybe head home for that shower. Gene and the others would be on their radios if anything else came up, and they had his number. Unable to think of any counter-arguments that were half as convincing, he lifted his jacket, and spied the remains of his Scotch on the desk. On impulse, he knocked it back before he left. No point letting decent whiskey go to waste, eh? Sam from 'Hyde' would have been appalled at this, but he was a different man now, a man to fit the times.

Nothing had been doing at the desk, and Sam had left the station with the PC's promise that they would call him if they needed to. After that, he had strolled the short distance home and enjoyed a long, leisurely shower. The water never got that hot but it was bliss after looking forward to it all day. He'd had a shave in the steamy bathroom mirror, wandered back out with a towel round his waist and decided to grab a quick kip before he went out. Miraculously, nobody came bursting through his front door, and there were no dreams. Just an hour, a cat nap really, but by God it felt like luxury. After waking up he got himself dressed again and cooked up a real dinner (at least, more real that the food in boxes he'd been eating all week), leafing through a book and sipping a glass of wine as he ate. It was now coming on for seven, and he decided he'd better follow orders and get himself to the Railway Arms.

He was feeling almost normal, good even, as he pulled on his jacket and stepped out of the flat. Seconds later there was a scrabble of his key in the lock as he rushed back through the door and up to the mirror. He had a look at himself, ruffled up his hair a bit, checked his breath. Satisfied, he left again, this time for the night.

Approaching the Railway Arms, he felt that familiar tension in his gut again. This time it was tinged with excitement more than anxiety. The Guv would be in there, he knew he wouldn't let him down. He pushed open the door, head up and looking around. He spotted the CID lads straight away, the Guv in that same seat facing the door. Their gazes met as the Guv laughed at something, his eyes bright. Sam grinned back at him. He couldn't help it. He strolled over to the bar to get himself a drink before he took a seat. Nelson added a third smile to the room as he greeted Sam and poured his large Scotch.

'You been left out of the action today, Sam?' he asked.

'Yeah, looks like it Nelson,' Tyler replied, affably. 'Now and again it's OK to be out of the loop.'

Nelson looked at him, face still relaxed but keen eyes taking in every detail. 'Well, you look better for it. Sometimes we all need a rest.'

Sam bought Nelson a drink when he paid for his own. He took his Scotch over to the table, taking a seat next to the Guv.

'Alright, Boss?' asked Chris. 'You missed a right laugh this afternoon.'

'Oh yeah?' asked Sam.

'We was called out for a robbery, but when we got there the blaggers was all rounded up in the corner of the shop...' he stopped to laugh, the others joining in. He recovered himself and finished, '...they was all rounded up in the corner, and this one old bird was stood in front of them with her walking stick. She must've been about eighty, and she had these three lads shaking like a leaf!'

Sam grinned. 'What, she herded them up with her walking stick? On her own?'

Ray joined in now. 'Her and the bloke behind the counter. The bloke used to be a boxer, he knocked one of them over when he drew the gun, and the old dear caught another one round the back of the legs with her stick. The third one didn't know what to do, before he knew it the three of them was in the back shop and we were on our way. The shopkeeper left the pensioner to watch them while he called it in, and when one of them tried to move she rattled him with the business end of her stick again. After that they just waited lie good little sheep. Think they was glad to see us!'

The four of them laughed again, this was better than the telly.

The Guv finally spoke. 'So, we nicked them, hauled them in and banged them up. They admitted everything, couldn't get it off their chests fast enough. Bunch of girls.' His face had returned to neutral, but he gave off an air of great satisfaction, mingled with contempt for these incompetent sods. Sam chuckled at the idea, sipping his whiskey.

'Well, my afternoon in the collator's office definitely pales in comparison. I must've just missed you coming back.'

'Not to worry Gladys, we managed without you,' said the Guv. Sam could no longer grudge him for going off without saying anything; his half day had done him the world of good, and maybe Gene had even planned it that way.

They relived some of the finer details of the afternoon for a while longer, Chris in particular collapsing into fits of the giggles every time the old dear's weapon of choice came up. Talk turned to other matters eventually; sport, birds, the usual. After an hour or so, Ray stood up and said 'Come on then Chris, get your game face on.'

Sam looked questioningly at them both. Chris caught his look. 'We're off to meet a couple of birds, Boss. The ones from the wedding.'

'What, the one who slapped you in the face?'

'Yeh... I spoke to her again later on, bought her a pint to apologise. She was really nice about it, after that...'

'Good for you, Chris,' Sam said, genuinely. Chris meant well, it would do his confidence good to meet a nice women. Pity Ray would be there with him, but maybe he'd be too distracted to do any damage. Chris smiled at him as they left, gave him a thumbs up. Sam smiled back, raised a hand in goodbye. He turned to Gene.

'Think he's in with a shot?'

'No chance, Sammy-boy. Our Chris couldn't chat up a bird if his life depended on it.' He finished his drink, then stood up. 'You ready for another?' Sam was. As Gene went to the bar, Sam made himself comfortable at the table. Well, here they were in the pub again. Just the two of them, on a Saturday night, not a care in the world. Well, a lot of cares, but he felt like he had risen above them for now. Long may it last.

When Gene got back, there was a spell of silence as they sipped their whiskey. Gene pulled Ray's empty chair a little closer to put his feet up, and Sam copied him with the other vacant seat. Nelson had the TV on again, and they idly watched Rising Damp with the sound off, laughing at the obvious gags and making occasional comment. The whiskey went down easily, and before long they were ready for another, which Sam fetched without asking. The near-silence had become less natural now, and when Gene took his feet of the chair and turned in towards the table, Sam felt a flutter of interest. He kept his own feet up but turned his head, trying to stay casual.

'Well Tyler, what would you say to a nightcap?'

He pondered this, not sure what it meant. 'I'd say it was a bit early, Guv. I've only just got here.'

'Allow me to rephrase. What would you say to a nightcap back at home?'

Sam didn't answer straight away. What did 'home' mean? Gene took a hit of his Scotch as he waited for the answer to this cryptic question. Sam stalled for time.

'You had a falling out with Nelson?' Gene looked impatient.

'Of course not, me and Nelson have an understanding, one man of influence to another. I just think a change of scene is in order.'

The good mood of the afternoon and the buzz from the wine and Scotch encouraged Sam to edge into slightly risky territory.

'Well, Guv, what did you have in mind: your place or mine?' He waited for the reaction, and it came soon enough, and without any of the protests that he might have expected.

'Don't be such a prat. Catch me spending any more time than I have to in that box you call a flat...' So, it was to be back to the Guv's then. Sam took another sip of his whiskey, feeling the warm burn mingle with the anticipation rising from his chest. He nodded, as if this sounded perfectly within reason. The Guv nodded back, face set in that serious pout Sam knew so well.

'That's settled then. Come on, get that down you,' he finished, knocking back the rest of his Scotch. 'I'll relieve Nelson of some of his finest.' Sam took his time over the last of his own drink, not wanting to hover over Gene's shoulder as he spoke to Nelson. As they left, though, he couldn't resist a glance over his shoulder at the barman, who was drying off a stack of pint glasses. He looked over at their retreating backs, and gave Sam a one-sided smile and the barest hint of a nod. He knew, alright, or at least he had a good idea, and his approval meant more to Sam than he'd have given credit to. Sam smiled bashfully back, then followed Gene out to the Cortina.

Gene Hunt was the kind of man who made a decision and stuck to it. This particular decision had been a long time in the making; it had started when he began to notice Tyler looking at him differently, and to notice himself looking back. It had gone from a hypothetical something to a real something last night, and while he'd escaped from Sam's flat without having to have The Talk about what happened next, he'd known he would have to decide sometime, and soon. He'd taken the opportunity to leave Sam behind today in the hope that some time away from his DI might help him gain some perspective. It was hard to come to a conclusion with him sitting only feet away, pretending to do his paperwork. Gene had noticed the little glances, and the way Sam had chosen to brush past him in the doorway (which he had chosen to hold open for him, let's not forget that). He couldn't think. As it happened, getting out in the car with Ray and Chris really had been an eye-opener; to put it simply, he'd missed Tyler. Missed him a lot. If he couldn't go a few hours without him, what would it be like if he took the sensible decision and cut their 'romance' off now, before it became something? They'd both start to find reasons to stay away from each other, and when Sam went back to Hyde as he kept threatening to do, he would have lost the best partner he'd known in all these years. The best friend.

Unaccustomed as he was to having to examine his own emotions, you didn't need a magnifying glass to see that Tyler was more than even that. Gene felt drawn to him, why else would they spend so many waking hours arguing and fighting, faces inches apart, hands tight on arms and collars? He didn't get up close and personal with Ray, or Chris, or anyone else at the station. Mind you, nobody else infuriated him like Sam did, challenged him at every turn, made sarcastic remarks a dozen times a day. The man was a pain in the arse, but Gene knew that if he was gone, life would seem much emptier.

Jesus, all this thinking about feelings; he sounded like an absolute fairy. If anyone had dared accuse him of fancying another man he'd have knocked them out, no questions asked. He didn't feel like a fairy. He felt the same as always, except for this one, small detail. But, like a stone in his shoe, this small detail was starting to feel like a boulder. He sighed as they drove up towards the house. The decision of what to do about Tyler had made itself, really, even before they'd kissed. He couldn't do without him.

'Here we are then,' said Gene, as he pulled the car up outside his house. 'Get the beers, Tyler.' He'd barely stopped the engine before he was out of the car and striding up the path to the door. Sam let himself out, opened the back door to pick up the carry out from Nelson, and followed him. He joined him at the door just as Gene unlocked it, and they stepped inside. Gene's heart was beating a little too fast. He'd never brought anyone here before - not like this. It had started to feel like a mistake. It wasn't too late to let Tyler down gently, to turn his back on all the baffling thoughts and feelings he'd been having lately. He thought this as he stepped through the door, going straight to the living room on autopilot and shrugging his coat off over the usual chair. He realised that Sam wasn't behind him, and turned back to see where he'd got to, almost hoping that he might have had his own doubts and legged it back down the street. He was faced with the sight of the man balancing on one leg, tyring to hold the bag of beers and get his boots off at the same time. _Daft bastard_, he thought, affectionately. He reached out.

'Here, give us those.' Sam handed over the bag with a smile, aware of how ridiculous he must look. 'Well, you've got manners anyway Tyler, I'll say that for you. Shoes off in the house; your mother did a good job.' Sam went back to getting his boots off, finding it much easier with both hands free. He lined them up neatly and hung his coat on the rack above. Gene turned and headed into the kitchen to pour them a drink; he felt like he needed one before he started thinking too much again. He heard Tyler come into the living room behind him and stop to look around.

'Nice place, Guv,' he called through, appreciatively. Gene looked out a couple of glasses and took the cans and Scotch out of the bag Nelson had given him.

'Where should I sit?' asked Tyler, then. What kind of question was that?

'Sit on your arse,' he shouted back, as he added a measure of whiskey to the glasses. He lifted the cans and the two glasses easily in his broad hands and made his way back through. Sam had sat on one end of the couch, leaving plenty of space for Gene to sit down without them being close. He contrasted this comfortable arrangement with the cramped conditions in Tyler's bedsit, and found it lacking in some respects. There was something to be said for finding yourself at close quarters with nowhere else to go. If he'd brought Tyler back here to get cleaned up things might have been different, all the extra space around them might have taken the heat out of the situation, left him better able to resist the unfamiliar urges he'd felt.

As he placed their drinks on the coffee table, he knew that Tyler had probably been thinking something similar, wondering if the gap between them on the sofa would mean they never got close tonight. The thought of going through all these mental gymnastics for no reason was infuriating. Before he could talk himself out of it, out of the decision he'd made this afternoon, he lifted Tyler's whiskey and took the extra step to hand it to him. As Sam reached out to take it, Gene leaned down, placed a hand on the back of the sofa and kissed him firmly. Their hands met round the glass again, Tyler's fingers tight on his. He felt the other man's indrawn breath of surprise and for a moment thought he was going to flinch back, imagined the embarrassment he'd feel if that happened. Before he could worry about it, though, he felt Sam's lips press against his, felt his mouth open to welcome the kiss. He let out a slow breath of his own, closing his eyes. The unfamiliar feel of Sam's mouth on his own was intoxicating. This was undeniably the right decision. What other choice had there been, really?

When they broke apart again, Gene let go of the glass and turned to bring both cans and his own whiskey a little further down the table. He turned back again to see Sam gawping up at him, eyes sparkling. He took a seat somewhere in the middle of the couch, and a sip of whiskey.

'Think we've got some things to talk about,' he said, tone neutral but still feeling the aftereffects of both kiss and alcohol. A dangerous mix, you might say.

Sam's eyes had become guarded again, and he took a sip of his drink before answering. Gene waited.

'Yeah I s'pose we do, Guv,' he replied, seriously. Neither of them seemed to know what to say next, so Gene decided to start out with the hard facts.

'Nobody can know about this,' he stated,knowing from Sam's actions today that he was clear on this already. He was nodding now.

'I know.' He paused, then seemed unable to help himself adding, 'Our little secret, eh?'

Gene laughed through his nose but also nodded.

'I won't tell if you wont?'

'That's the one,' said Sam, his face taking on a hint of smile at the memory of yesterday's conversation in the pub. He kept talking.

'So, this thing we're not telling anyone about - what is it?'

Gene considered this, taking another chaste sip from his glass. Plenty of time to get drunk after this was done, he needed to keep himself on the level for now. The trouble was, he didn't really know how to answer the question, drunk or sober.

'Well...' he started, slightly stalling for time. 'I think it's two blokes finding themselves lacking in the birds department, for a start...'

Sam looked a bit troubled by this, but didn't answer. Gene knew he hadn't really been truthful there, felt that he was selling Tyler short. There wasn't a shortage of birds in Manchester, if Gene had wanted to get out and meet one he knew that a flash of the badge and a Dubonnet and lemonade could open a lot of doors for him. He tried again.

'I dunno Tyler. It's a bit early to say, don't you think?' He thought that got to the truth of the matter better. Sam seemed to consider it, still looking a little hurt at the implication that he was just a standby for Gene in the absence of any immediately available women. He decided to wait again for an answer instead of digging himself any deeper into trouble. He watched Sam take a sip of his drink, eyes turned away. Eventually he had something to say.

'You're probably right. You'll probably find yourself a bird by next weekend anyway.'

'Come on Tyler, it's not like that.'

'What _is_ it like then, Guv?'

'Oh don't act the madam with me, you know I've got no idea. Nor've you or you wouldn't be coming the injured princess.' God dammit, he'd meant to keep it together but Sam knew how to push his buttons. All his buttons, unfortunately, or he'd never be having this conversation in the first place. He gauged Sam's reaction, seeing the anger rising and the other man clenching his jaw round it. Their eyes blazed at each other as both tried to compose themselves. Sam managed it first.

'Alright, Guv, you're right. I don't know what's going on here. I suppose I can't expect you to either. It's not exactly business as usual, is it?' Gene couldn't agree more. This was so far from usual, it wasn't funny.

'Too true...' he decided he'd try some more honesty, since it was probably the only way they could come out the other side of this conversation without punching each other.

'Never done this before. Never wanted to.' He carried on, concentrating on his Scotch. 'Not with a bloke. Never.'

Sam was taking another sip of his own drink. When it was done, he replied.

'Me neither. Not even at college.' Gene didn't really get what college had to do with it, and it must have showed in his face.

'You know what they say - people always experiment at college. With other guys. Or girls. Or drugs.' Gene still felt like this was a stupid thing to say. Again his face gave him away.

'I suppose they're probably not talking about police college,' Sam finished, defeated.

'They are most certainly not. Anything like that went on in my day at college, we'd have got a good kicking and sent off crying to our mothers.' Sam gave a weak chuckle at that. It was true, though, and while Gene would like to say he was a tolerant man (despite what people thought), in a case like this he might well have been one of the ones administering that kicking. He'd grown up over time, didn't have anything against the queers these days, but he still wasn't comfortable with the idea of working with one. And what did that say about him now?

That silence had descended again, and Gene wished that things could just go back to normal. This was no way for a man to spend a Saturday night. Sam interrupted his thoughts.

'And what about now? Are you going to give me a good kicking for it? Again?'

His words were sharp but his tone not as petty as earlier. He was still tense, holding himself ill at ease on the couch. His slim form leaned forward over his knees, held up by his elbows. He held the whiskey glass in both hands, rolling it between his palms a little. Gene put his own glass down, feeling the need to drink something he could take a good draught of. He cracked open his own beer, then offered the other to Tyler.

'Thirsty work, this,' he offered, hoping to make more peace between them. Sam turned to look at him, not reaching to take it. That hadn't been one of those whatdyoucallit questions, then.

'Go on, take it.' Sam still sat, unmoving. 'Come on. Of course I'm not going to give you a kicking. I gave you a kicking the other night because you were being a mouthy sod and you deserved it.' He wasn't sure if that was really the answer Sam had wanted, but after a second more the beer was taken from him, the whiskey placed neatly on the table. He still didn't open it though.

'Is this all one big joke to you, Guv?'

'Do I look like I'm laughing?' How Sam could accuse him of joking he didn't now. Couldn't he see how hard this was? Gene was not used to questioning himself, or anyone else questioning him for that matter. Denying all the self-wisdom of nearly forty years was enough to send anyone backing off, but here he was trying to do exactly that. He, Gene, was putting himself through a lot of discomfort here, and he was getting no thanks for it.

'You're meant to be the expert on all this feelings stuff, Tyler. That's definitely your department.'

Sam gave a dry laugh, then finally opened his beer and took a drink. 'You have no idea.' he said, distantly. Gene felt like they were at an impasse, no further forward and both of them edgy. How did people do this? This is why you shouldn't try to talk about feelings.

'Tyler, I'm in this up to me neck. Don't want to see it pissed away just because I'm no good at talking, do I? Come on, do me a favour.' This was a bit more than he'd really wanted to admit. Why did everything have to come in black or white? Usually Gene didn't have any time for 'grey areas' but he felt like he'd stepped on a rollercoaster by accident and he'd like to get off, now. He looked at Sam to see his reaction. He was still leaning forward over his knees, holding the beer can just as he had the Scotch. Rolling it back and forth between his palms, he almost seemed hypnotised by the gentle motion. Gene itched to take the can off him but restrained himself. Finally Sam had marshalled his thoughts.

'Well... Since neither of us has a clue what's going on... Maybe the best thing is to let it play itself out. See what happens. Be open-minded,' he turned to Gene then with a slightly wicked gleam in his eye. Gene thought there might be two sides to that statement, and one of them was catching his imagination. Open-minded. That sounded like it could be fun.

'Luckily for you I'm one of the most open-minded men in the city, eh? Well apart from them perverts down Canal Street. It's not just their minds that open.' Sam laughed, and Gene felt the tension rise from them and thought they might be in the clear, now. See what happens. That sounded OK.

'Right, well if we've got that sorted out, I suggest we drink these beers and put the sport on. Might catch the end of Match of the Day.' Sam raised his can in a silent toast and went to work finishing it. Gene stood up to snap on the TV. When he got back to the couch, he sat himself a little nearer Sam. Not touching; he wasn't going to go in for a cuddle. Things hadn't got that far yet.


	5. Chapter 5: Miracle Goodnight

Chapter Twelve - Miracle Goodnight

They sat and watched Match of the Day, and drank beer and Scotch, just like any two heterosexual guys might on a Saturday night. Except for the way that they did seem to be edging a little closer together with every fidget, until their legs touched any time one of them stood up to refill their glass or visit the small room at the top of the stairs, and their hands resting on the couch brushed against each other occasionally. Sam was restraining a grin with some difficulty. He was at that nice phase of drunk where he could enjoy this flirtation, each only touching the other enough so that they could pretend it had been an accident if questioned on it. Gene lit up another cigarette, holding it away from Sam in his left hand, in a small but noticed gesture of consideration. As he relaxed into his seat, his shoulder pressed oh-so lightly against Sam's, and this time didn't shift away again. Such a small amount of contact but it felt red hot. Sam drained his beer, tilting his head back to catch the last drops. There was a whiskey chaser waiting for him, but he thought that might be the last drink of tonight. The last nightcap.

Gene smoked and sipped his own whiskey, now and again commenting on the football results. Every time he spoke, Sam's heart jumped. He didn't know if Gene was going to invite him to bed tonight, and didn't know if he was going to go if that happened. He thought he wanted to; the atmosphere was so charged, his skin was tingling with it. He'd managed to keep up a light conversation only with difficulty, particularly as the booze had disappeared down his neck. Losing his virginity hadn't been this exciting; he'd spent most of the night miserable with nerves, unable to really enjoy what was happening for wondering if he was doing it right. To make things worse, it had turned out he wasn't. This memory did bring up some similar concerns that he'd been keeping at bay. He hadn't been lying when he said he'd never been with another guy like that (_like this_, supplied his treacherous mind) and beyond kissing, which seemed to be just the same, he wasn't sure how much he wanted to do, or wanted to have done. That was probably where _see what happens_ came in. Anyway, no point getting himself worked up over it, in either sense, when it might not happen at all.

The Match of the Day credits started to roll, and Gene stubbed out his cigarette. He let out a huge yawn that seemed completely genuine; Sam had forgotten that Gene hadn't had the benefit of a restful afternoon at home. And he'd slept in the armchair last night. Sam might end up sleeping on the couch after all. Gene finished the last of his whiskey, then leaned his head back on the sofa, holding the glass in his lap.  
'Well, Sammy-boy,' (Sam felt his heart leap again). 'Looks like it's past my bedtime.'

Sam nodded, trying to look relaxed. 'Another long day,' he managed. Their shoulders had been brought a little more firmly together and still neither of them moved away. Sam didn't know if he'd ever sat so still in his life. He couldn't trust himself to look directly at Gene, but broke his stasis by taking a drink. He felt like his whole body was buzzing. Gene stood up then, and Sam was gutted to have the heat taken away, the moment ended. He finished his Scotch, shifted to lean forward on his knees, looked up at the other man. Gene looked back down at him, and Sam was more aware than ever of the physical advantages the Guv had over him. God, even that was pushing his buttons; him, who never dated a woman who was taller than him in her heels, turned on by the physical stature of another man. Who knew?  
Gene was still looking down at him.

'You coming, then?' he asked, sounding casual.

'No, Guv, it's just the way I'm sitting.' That had slipped out by reflex, the stupid old joke. It cracked Gene's face open in a broad smile though, and he gave a curt laugh.

'Maybe we can do better than that,' he grinned. With this, he made his way carefully past Sam. his thigh passing within an inch of the sitting man's nose, and out of the room. Sam heard him begin to climb the stairs. That was the invite, then, the one he hadn't been sure was going to happen at all. It had definitely just happened. Hadn't it? There wasn't really any other way to take that, surely? His mind was swimming, marinaded in hormones and alcohol. Gene had reached the top of the stairs and Sam heard a door open - one of the two bedroom doors above his head. He decided to follow him up instead of sitting here on the couch.

As he reached the top of the stairs and saw the open bedroom door, his heart lurched. It had been so long since he'd spent the night with someone, and he wanted this so much. He needed a minute to calm down. Instead of heading into the bedroom, he turned on the bathroom light and went in, closing the door behind him. He ran some water, splashed it over his face and wrists. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink. _God, I'm hiding in the toilet. AGAIN. _He took a deep breath, fixed his own gaze. _Keep it together_, he told himself sternly. _Be cool_. He sounded just like seventeen year old Sam, telling himself that no matter what, no matter how much he liked a girl, he had to be cool. He thought he'd grown up a bit since then but it seemed that when it came to going to bed with someone new, he was still the same bundle of nerves he'd been back then. It had been a long time since the feeling had been so intense, though. He didn't want to lose face in front of Gene, didn't want to jeopardise their relationship by being too keen. He couldn't stay in here any longer; maybe something was going to happen, something he'd been secretly wanting for weeks, but it wasn't going to happen if he spent the night looking at himself in the mirror. With a final splash of water to try and cool his ardour, he dried off his face and hands and stepped out of the bathroom. The bedroom door was right next to him, and he went through it.

It was pitch dark in here. At first he wasn't even sure if Gene was in there, and he wondered with sinking heart if he'd gone into the next room, only leaving this door open for Sam to find his way to the spare bed. Then Gene gave a low cough from the bed. He was there, and waiting. Sam's blood beat hard in his ears.

'Shut the door behind you, Tyler,' Gene said, as Sam started to get used to the gloom. He did as instructed, leaning around and flicking off the light in the hallway first. Shit, it really was pitch dark now, he hoped there wasn't any furniture to trip over. He walked carefully back towards the bed, taking slow strides and feeling for any obstacles. His shin found the corner of the bed, and he edged himself round it, using it as a guide against his calf as he made his way. He stopped when he judged himself to be about mid-way up and wondered what to do next. Was Gene undressed in there? Or had he kept at least some of his clothes on to create a barrier between them? There was no way of knowing. His heightened senses registered deep, even breathing. God, what if he was already asleep? That would make all this wondering look so stupid, he'd never remember it without cringing; _the day I thought Gene Hunt was coming on to me_.

As Sam unbuttoned his shirt, Gene lay in the dark and listened. He lay on his back in the cold bed, all his clothes bar his boxers in a heap to one side. He hadn't been able to concentrate on hanging them anywhere, just wanting to get into bed before Sam followed him. He knew that whatever was going to happen between them, it'd be easier for it to happen in the dark. And he wanted something to happen, God yes. He heard the gentle rustle of Sam's quick hands, then the sound of his shirt falling to the floor. Next there was the sound of belt buckle and zip, and the soft crumple of jeans pooling round Sam's ankles. His already interested dick gave a lively twitch at that image; he couldn't see Sam, but he could picture him standing there, trousers round his ankles, naked from the waist up with that silver medallion nestling in the hollow of his collarbones. This was happening. He was about to be in bed with a stripped-down Sam Tyler. He tried to keep his breathing steady, his head clear. If Sam climbed in and turned his back to him, made it obvious he was ready for sleep and nothing more, he would go along with it and maybe they'd never speak of this again. If, on the other hand, he got in and faced him, even touched him, he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to contain himself. If he was half hard already, how would he feel then? As he thought this, the bed springs dipped as Sam sat down. Gene heard more rustling, felt movement. Socks - he was taking his socks off before bed. What a gentleman.

Sam had no further reason to delay. He was down to his shorts, and that seemed like a safe bet for any eventuality. Now he just had to make that small move that would send his feet under the covers and his head to the pillows. Into bed. Next to Gene. He felt a stirring in his boxers, felt his skin break out in a shiver. _Jesus_. _This is really happening_.

He slid under the covers carefully and lay on his back, at the edge of the mattress. He could feel the heat coming from Gene's body, could feel his head spinning in the darkness. His eyes weren't getting used to it this time, there really was no light to be had, no matter how wide his pupils got. The scent of Gene, masculine and smoky, filled his nose. He was both terrified and turned on. Experimentally, he slid further into bed, until his arm barely touched Gene's, and he held himself there. Just like on the couch, he wanted to be able to pretend he hadn't done it on purpose, even though it was clearly the most calculated move of the whole evening. He felt Gene's arm shift closer, pressing deliberately against him, and then his senses lit up as a strong hand swept over his own, fingers trailing across the back, and closed around his wrist. The pressure increased briefly, and then he found himself turning on to his side as Gene did the same, so that they faced each other across a narrow gap, unable to see but knowing what they would find if they moved only a little closer. Sam lay flat on his side, tucking his left arm in to his body, as he felt Gene's right arm slide up under the pillows, under Sam's neck. Gene reached out his other hand, and landed clumsily but gently on Sam's upper arm. He traced the curve of it down to the elbow, then up again to the shoulder, thumb running ahead to stroke the curve of Sam's neck. Sam felt a rush of adrenaline.

Gene lay there, one arm under Tyler's head and the other stroking Sam's bicep, mesmerised by his own actions. The darkness made him feel less self-conscious, but there was no getting past the simple fact that he was touching up another officer of the law, another man, and he was enjoying it. He slid his hand further up until it was curled round the back of Sam's neck, and drew his head firmly towards his own as he leaned forward. He was off the mark with his first kiss, which landed only half on Sam's mouth, but Sam seemed to like it. He gave a breathless gasp against Gene's face, and Gene repeated the action, this time touching the very tip of his tongue to the corner of Sam's lips. He was rewarded with another gasp, a flood of heat and Scotch against his skin. He lifted his mouth away, but only for a second so that he could position his next kiss properly. As their open mouths pressed together, Gene felt everything else fade away. It didn't matter; none of it mattered. All that he could think about was how this felt, right here and now. There would be time to think later. For now, he surrendered to the enjoyment.

Sam began to kiss back, after that initial frozen moment. How had Gene known that kissing him that way was a sure-fire way to turn him on? It must have been an accident, but oh, what a happy accident it had been. He pressed his lips against Gene's, bringing his tongue out only sparingly at first, trying to keep control over himself. He reached across that narrow gap and found the Guv's waist. He thought he felt a slight flinch when he made contact, but kept his hand where it was until Gene relaxed into it, then used his grip there to ease their bodies closer. Not pressing together, not yet, but close enough so that each small movement created a wonderful friction between them. He slid his hand up Gene's broad back and down again, lightly tracing with his fingers, feeling the shudders he was creating.

Gene kissed harder, not pressing his hips forward yet but knowing he wasn't far off being unable to control himself. They were only kissing, but it felt like no other kiss he could remember. Their lips moved faster, tongues began to rub together, Sam's making neat circles around the tip of his own that made him wonder what that tongue would feel like on his neck, on his stomach, on his cock. His breathing roughened as this flashed through his mind, now rock hard in his shorts. He'd kept his hand firmly on the back of Tyler's neck until now, but it began to run back down to his shoulder, now down his back, now resting at Sam's waistband. His fingers, curled round the hollow of Sam's back, nudged their way under the cotton, only slightly. At this sensation, Sam arched his back, pressing his flat stomach against Gene's straining hard-on. Both men froze when their bodies touched, pausing even in their kissing to draw in dual breaths of shock.

Still not moving his lips, Sam pressed himself more firmly against Gene, his own stiff cock throbbing. Their kiss restarted, more passionate than before, and when Gene broke it off to place more hard kisses along Sam's jaw, Sam couldn't help but thrust himself forward again, and again, loving the way their bodies felt together. As Gene slid his hand into the back of his boxers and across his arse, Sam squirmed upwards so that their dicks rubbed together, through two thin layers of fabric. Gene gasped against his neck, then bit him in the sweet spot right on the corner of his jaw. The bite was hard enough to hurt wonderfully, and as another one was positioned between jaw and earlobe Sam let out a clenched grunt of lust. His own hand found Gene's waist again, and slid under the waistband he found there. At first he only slid his hand in a taut circle round waist and thigh, giving Gene the chance to say no, but when he found a tongue probing his ear he lost any remaining sense of restraint and, for the first time in his life, wrapped his hand around another man's prick. It was just as hard as his own; scalding hot, soft skin over what felt like granite. A second later and Gene's hand was around him, too, and they began to move rhythmically together. He was panting now, overcome with desire and ignorant of any other thought but the feeling of the hand on his cock, the building sense of imminent satisfaction.

Gene wanted to slow down, to prolong this sweet agony, but at first couldn't stop. He was rushing towards the finish line, thought they both might be, and for a moment he thought he had missed the point of no return. With a great effort, he slowed his hand, moved his head back around from where he'd been exploring the smooth skin on Sam's neck. He felt Sam slow down too, until they had both stopped stroking, then he positioned his hand right at the top of Sam's cock and slowly ran his thumb across the head. He continued to make slow, slippery circles with his thumb, feeling Sam's breath against his face, then leaned in and kissed him again, thoroughly and slowly. Sam started to copy his actions, bringing Gene a renewed jolt of excitement. He ran his tongue into the corners of Sam's lips, then back again to allow Sam's tongue to roll around his own. It made him think again of what a great blowjob this man would probably give, and this was too much for him. He began to work his fist back up and down the length of Sam's smooth, hot cock, and when Sam did the same for him he started to have trouble knowing whose hand was where. This was incredible, his whole body was ignited with heat and crashing blood.

Sam knew he couldn't keep this up for long, the feeling of the Guv's hand on his dick and the back of his own hand against it as he kept pace with him, stroking the other man closer and closer to the edge, was too much to bear. In a quick move he released Gene from his underwear, letting go only long enough to push the elastic on the shorts down and out of his way. Gene copied him and before he knew what was happening the man had his hand round both of them, rubbing their cocks together in quick strokes. The feeling was incredible, that hardness against his own, and he cried out into Gene's mouth as he came, unable to stop, never wanting to stop. He thrust himself into Gene's hand, feeling it slick with his own come, and moaned again as Gene bucked against him, a single low grunt the only sound he made as he, too, raced over the edge and into the freefall of a long, hard orgasm.

They stayed pressed together as they both throbbed with surges of pleasure. Gene had pushed his tongue deep into Sam's mouth as he came, filling it as he filled his own palm, Sam narrowing his lips around it so that it felt like Gene was fucking his mouth with his tongue, the feeling at once shocking and scintillating. Now he slowly removed it, giving Sam's own tongue one last flick as it withdrew, and they sealed their kiss and tilted their heads a little apart, breathing shallowly. After a long minute, Gene gently removed his hand from their softening dicks, and Sam hesitated only briefly before reaching his arm out and round Gene's back, pulling him in closer. Gene wrapped his own free arm round Sam, and they held each other for a quiet moment, feeling elated, buzzed, drunk.

The moment passed and both men rolled onto their backs, out of the now stifling embrace. Sam drew long, steadying breaths, and before long felt himself slipping into a doze. _What a cliche_, he thought to himself, not caring in the least. He heard Gene's breath slow similarly and was glad to think they were both on their way to sleep. Neither of them expected anything of the other, there would be no arguments in the morning about falling asleep too soon afterwards. Just before he went completely under the wave, Sam opened his mouth.

'Goodnight,' he said, voice faint in his own ears.

Gene turned his head, still unseen, and answered.

'Goodnight, Sam.'


	6. Chapter 6: Sunday

Chapter Thirteen - Sunday

When Gene woke up, he was momentarily confused about where he was. The grey light, filtered through heavy curtains, made it difficult to see the detail around him and he blinked, trying to make sense of it. Then the furniture became familiar; he was in the spare room. And there was someone here with him. He was lying on his side, facing away, and the events of last night came flooding back to him.  
_Sam Tyler. Who would have thought it? _

He felt Sam shifting beside him, and rolled onto his back, turning his head towards the other man. Sam had opened his eyes, and was looking up at the ceiling.

'Well, this is a turn up for the books,' said Gene, not wanting them to get into an awkward spell of silence if he could help it. There had been enough of that. Sam looked over at him with an unsure smile.

'That's one way of putting it,' he replied. Gene maintained his serious expression for a moment, but he was still feeling a certain post-coital glow and a small smile broke out on his face. Sam watched it grow, then answered it with a short laugh. He looked back up at the ceiling, still smiling.

'I'm in bed with Gene Hunt,' he said, seemingly to the light fitting, shaking his head slowly. Gene wasn't too sure what to make of that. He shifted himself on to his side, propped up on his elbow.

'And how does that feel?' he asked, partly serious. Sam continued to keep his gaze fixed ahead, not answering at first.

'Good.' He turned his head now, to look at Gene. 'It feels good.' He gave another shy smile.

'Good,' replied Gene. 'You want a brew?'

Sam blinked at this change of subject, then nodded. 'Yeah. Yeah, milk and two.' Gene nodded and heaved himself up out of bed. Sam tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn downwards as Gene crossed the foot of the bed. He looked back up again quickly to meet a knowing expression.

'Why don't you take a photo, Tyler? It'll last longer.' Gene smirked at him, continuing on his way out of the room so that Sam was now treated to the view of his retreating arse, surprisingly firm for a man who considered walking to the car a form of exercise. Sam could have sworn there was a bit of extra swagger in that walk, a certain roll of the hips. He thought that might be for his benefit. Extraordinary.

Gene went in to the room next door; this one had all the hallmarks of a spare room, the other must be the master bedroom. Sam wasn't surprised by this - the Guv hadn't long split up with his missus, the bed that had been theirs for all these years probably still held a lot of emotional baggage. Not enough emotional baggage to stop Gene screwing another man in the next room, of course...

What a thought. His morning glory had receded as he woke up, but he felt it throb momentarily as he remembered the events of last night. It had been incredible; even if he wasn't sure about anything else, that was a fact. In any other situation he'd probably have been embarrassed to have finished so quickly, but he hadn't been on his own there. It appeared that they had both been in a state of high anticipation, to say the least. So he didn't feel any shame over his own performance, such as it had been, and in fact didn't feel any shame at all. At least, not yet. He knew it might come with time but for now he was flooded with endorphins, still feeling the afterglow, still amazed that it had happened at all.

He heard Gene walk past the door again, on his way downstairs, and wondered what today had to offer. In a situation like this with a woman, he'd usually expect them to spend the day half dressed, maybe getting naked another once or twice, and lots of giggling conversation and cuddling on the couch. He was finding it difficult to imagine much of the above happening here. All bets were off. He wondered what Gene would want - he might even want Sam to leave after he'd had his cuppa. He'd be disappointed if that happened, but he'd take it on the chin. He still felt a great urge to 'be cool' and not come across too keen. This was ridiculous, given that putting your hands inside someone's pants was probably the epitome of being too keen, but that had been in the moment. You could excuse a lot of things, in the moment.

The smell of cigarette smoke drifted up the stairs. Sam had slept better last night than he had in months, maybe even since he'd woken up in 1973. Unlike last weekend he was afflicted with neither Fear nor hangover. He felt excellent. He smiled again to himself. The recuperative powers of sex should never, ever be underestimated. He thought he should probably get himself dressed, head downstairs for that tea. He stretched out luxuriously instead, enjoying the feeling of a proper mattress under his back, finding the cool parts of the duvet to tuck his feet under. He drew in a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh of contentment, closing his eyes. Right now, life was good.

He must have dozed off again, because the next thing he knew Gene was back in the room, clad only in boxer shorts, and bearing two mugs.

'Look alive, Tyler,' he barked, and Sam's eyes started open. He pushed himself upright, moving the pillows around to support him.

'Thanks Guv,' he said, taking one of the mugs carefully. Gene waited until he was settled then put his own mug down on the bedside cabinet and climbed back into bed. He lifted his mug and took a noisy sip.

'I wasn't expecting breakfast in bed,' said Sam. Gene snorted.

'You probably weren't expecting to get your hands on my family jewels, either.'

'Well... I don't know if I'd say I wasn't expecting that...' Gene looked at him, eyebrow raised challengingly.

'What?' he snapped.

'Well, you did put your tongue in my mouth on Friday night,' Gene opened his own mouth to answer, but Sam carried on '...and I'm pretty sure you've been flirting with me for weeks now...'

Gene's eyes took on more fire. 'Gene Hunt does not _flirt_. Especially not with nancy boys like you.'

'Oh that's rich, look where you are!' Gene did just that, seeming too see the point of Sam's argument, but retorted smartly.

'I could be in bed with _ten_ other men and I'd still be the straightest bloke in Manchester.'

Sam shifted himself around a little.

'Oh come on, Gene, you lost all right to call me a nancy when you brought me home and slept with me.' Gene looked affronted, and Sam didn't know whether to be offended or entertained by this conversation. He hadn't expected Gene to be so up front about last night, had thought there would be a certain level of angst over what had happened. It just went to prove, it didn't do to underestimate Gene Hunt.

Sam took a sip of his tea, then set it aside to cool.

'Look, you little prick, I...'

'Oi, oi, oi!' Sam interrupted. 'Less of the little!'

This stopped Gene in his tracks. He had no idea what to say to that, an event which was extremely rare. Sam looked serious but Gene thought there was a glint in his eye, the one that cropped up when the man was winding him up. Well, if it was a wind up he wanted...

'Sorry Tyler. Would you prefer the term petite?'

'As in _la petite mort_?' he shot back, realising as he did that Gene would absolutely not get this. He was right.

'Now you're speaking French. You're not doing yourself any favours, here.' Gene found himself enjoying the banter a little more than usual.

'Listen, Guv, if I'm a nancy, you are too. That's just a fact.'

'It certainly is not. For one thing, you wouldn't catch me speaking bloody French!'

'Apart from just then, you mean? Face it Guv, your unhealthy obsession with male bonding has finally started to make sense.'

'Oh we're back to my obsession with male bonding, are we? Why not go the whole hog? I believe I'm over weight, over-the-hill and homophobic as well?'

Sam's own words, repeated back to him, rang in his ears. He'd been overwrought when he'd said then, caught up in trying to save his dad, his family and maybe even himself. He'd never apologised for them, and had hoped that Gene had forgotten that particular diatribe. It seemed that he hadn't. It wasn't fair of him to throw it back in Sam's face now, though, when they were indulging in some good natured bickering. Sam decided not to let Gene beat him with them.

'And I believe I'm a holier-than-thou dickhead?'

'You're also a Man United supporting poof,' replied Gene. Sam was put out that Gene seemed to have absolutely no regrets about insulting him.

'I wasn't too much of a poof to take to bed last night, though, was I?'

'Tyler, that is the stupidest thing you've ever said, and believe me, that's saying something. You were exactly the right amount of poof to take to bed.' This struck Sam as funny.

'Exactly the right amount of poof? That's a new one,' he laughed. A grin broke slowly over Gene's face.

'Well you can't take another straight bloke to bed, can you? You'd never get anything done.' Sam had to admit he had a point. His laughter ran its course, and he lifted his mug from the cabinet. Gene followed suit, and they sat quietly for a moment. Sam was amazed at how matter of fact the Guv was being. It really showed how the man's mind worked: if he had gone to bed with another man, then it was OK to go to bed with another man and still consider yourself straight. It was admirable, in a way, that level of self-confidence. Gene said,

'About last night...' Sam's heart sank. He'd heard those words before - said them himself, more often - and he knew that it rarely meant good news for the hearer. Gene must have seen this and hurried on.

'...just don't expect me to treat you any different, that's all. You're still my DI. You're still a pain in the arse. I won't be bringing you flowers and calling you sweetheart.'

Sam was profoundly relieved. If Gene started bringing him flowers he would have no idea what to make of it. The essence of their relationship - the arguing, the fighting - was the whole reason he'd ended up here in the first place. If that changed, their feelings for each other would surely change, and he didn't want that. As complicated and even dangerous as it was, this was also deeply exciting. And, if last night was anything to go by, there was a lot of fun still to be had, and it would never happen if that air of conflict between them disappeared.

'Wouldn't expect you to, Guv. Wouldn't want you to,' he answered, trying to convey how he felt in these few words. He thought he'd managed it, since Gene nodded before finishing off his tea.

'As long as that's clear. Don't expect any privileges just because we're... well, whatever we are.'

'Partners?' Sam suggested, that wicked glint back in his eye. That was a word full of connotations in 2006, though maybe less so in 1973.

'Partners,' answered Gene. If he knew the subtext to the word, he wasn't letting on. 'Right then, if that's sorted, I'm off for a shower.'

Sam nodded. 'Alright. Want me to nip out and get breakfast?'

'Good idea. In fact, hang on...' Gene heaved himself out of bed and headed off downstairs. Sam set about getting dressed, not sure what Gene was up to but sure it would become clear sooner rather than later. As he pulled on the last of his clothes, Gene reappeared.

'Here,' he said, tossing something at Sam. Sam caught it out of reflex, and opened his hand to see the keys of the Cortina. He looked up at Gene, stunned.

'Get yourself back to your place, pick up a change of clothes. Grab some beers on the way back. Sunday should be a day of rest, after all.'  
Sam couldn't believe this. Gene, willingly giving him the keys to the Cortina? This was bigger than a bouquet of a dozen roses. The Guv obviously knew this, tried to explain his way out of it.

'Well, you drive like a pensioner, I know she'll be safe. Besides, I'm hungry, it'll be quicker if you drive.'

'And... you want me to stay again tonight?' This was the other part that was giving Sam trouble.

'Well, not if you don't want to...' Gene's tone was a little huffy, and he looked away.

'No! I mean, yeah, I do. I'll get going,' Sam tried to cover his eager tone with action, stood up and made his way past Gene to the bedroom door. 'See you in a bit then.'

Gene nodded, letting him pass without speaking. As he was half way down the stairs, Sam heard the shout.

'And mind the paintwork!'


	7. Chapter 7: Sweet Head

Chapter Fourteen - Sweet Head

Gene listened to Sam shuffle into his boots then head out, closing the door behind him. He heard the familiar clunk of the Cortina's door, imagined he could hear the springs creak as Sam got in. The engine started and Sam reversed out, then drove off. He felt a slight pang at letting someone else drive his car, it was not the normal way of things, but then nothing this weekend was normal at all, was it? He may as well admit it - he didn't want to spend any longer apart from Sam than necessary. Who knew how long this temporary madness would last? May as well give in to it. Not that he'd admit half as much to anyone, not even Sam.

He took himself in to the shower, starting the water and waiting for it to run hot. When steam began to fill the room, he stripped off his boxers and stepped under the spray. The feeling was wonderful - he hated to go a day without a shower, though he'd managed to distract himself from the feeling yesterday quite admirably. He stood still and quiet under the water, letting it warm him and rinse his skin clean. He breathed deeply of the foggy air, feeling it open his sinuses and fill his chest. Eventually he reached for the soap and started his ablutions properly, wondering idly what Sam's idea of breakfast might be. He'd seen the man eat yoghurt for breakfast before now - actual yoghurt. For breakfast. What kind of pansy-arsed way was that to start the day? If it wasn't fried in an inch of oil, Gene didn't want to know about it.

He finished his shower with no haste, enjoying the relaxing hot water, then stepped out and dried off. He headed in to the bedroom to get dressed - another pair of clean shorts, black trousers, green shirt. No tie. It was a Sunday, after all. The last time he'd had this shirt on was the night they'd gone undercover at the Trafford Arms - hell of a night. He'd been leathered, reeling drunk. Sam's smug superiority had been insufferable in the days that followed. Not that Gene had let on he'd noticed. And he had to say that they'd got to the bottom of that case only because of their shift as bartenders. It was still about football though, that murder, something Sam had never admitted. Gene had never met anyone so stubborn. Well, with the exception of himself, he supposed...

He stopped in at the spare room to open the blinds - curtains shut during the day was something his old mum could never abide - and scoop up the scattered clothes that were left. He sloped downstairs now, not bothering with socks or to tuck his shirt in. He headed into the kitchen to add his pile of clothes to the laundry basket and grab himself a can, came back through, flicked the TV on and dropped to the couch. He let the pictures and noises flow round him, not really paying attention to what was on. He sipped some of his beer, reached to the table for an abandoned packet of cigarettes and lit one up. He relaxed back again, feeling content. Sunday morning, and all was well. He had something to drink and something to smoke, and breakfast wouldn't be long in arriving. And bringing the breakfast was a rather nice piece of arse by the name of Tyler. He felt heat rise to his face as he thought this, and a slightly rueful smile crossed his face. In the heat of the moment, he wasn't concerned about his new feelings for Sam, but thinking of them when he was on his own, in the cold light of day, was a different matter. He could see how absurd this all was, could see clearly what a mess it could end up and that he should call a halt to it now. Absurd or not, he still didn't want to call it off. Wouldn't call it off. They were both adults, they could manage to have this... this... fling, or whatever it was, without swooning over each other like a pair of girls. Nothing else had to change. During the day they'd be the same two men as ever. At night - well, under cover of the night they could do what they wanted. Exactly what they wanted.

He felt a flutter of excitement at that thought and tried to quell it with another sip of beer. He gave a shiver, fleeting images of what 'exactly what we want' might mean flickering through his mind unbidden. He really hadn't felt like this in years. Hadn't even realised what he was missing. The thrill of these new, formerly forbidden feelings ran deeper than he could have imagined. It was better than being drunk, it was unpredictable and sexy. Yes, sexy; he felt sexy. He realised it had been a long time since that happened.

As he sat and thought, he heard the Cortina returning to the driveway, then footsteps outside and Sam, let himself in. He sauntered through to the living room, chewing gum and laden with several bags.

'Blood hell Tyler, what kind of breakfast are you planning?'

'Stopped off and got something for later. Thought I might cook,' said Sam, trying to look casual, as if it was no big deal. Gene hadn't had a home cooked Sunday dinner in weeks, and the thought of it set his stomach rumbling. He was touched, too - Tyler wanted to cook for him, to see him right. You didn't get that with some random bird you picked up in a pub.

'Oh yeah?' he asked, trying to keep his tone light. 'What's on the menu then Keith Floyd?'

'Chicken dinner?' said Sam, obviously hoping this would meet with approval.

'The full works?' asked Gene. This brought a grin to Sam's face.

'The works, Guv. Chicken, roast spuds, Yorkshires, the lot.'

'Spot on Sam. Go on, get that lot in the kitchen and grab a beer.' Sam did as he was told, coming back with two paper bags as well as his can.

'Here,' he said, handing one over. 'Roll and fried egg, a nutritious start to anyone's day.' Gene took it with a nod of approval, and got tucked in.

'Nice one,' he said, mouth full. 'Nice one.'

Several hours later, the two of them sat, stuffed full and tipsy.

'Didn't know you were such a professional, Tyler,' said Gene. Sam wiped his mouth, smiling a little. Dinner had been exceptionally good, Yorkshire puddings and all, and Sam had brought in enough beers to see them through a lazy, boozy afternoon.

'I just like to cook,' he replied, modestly.

'Lucky for me,' Gene replied. 'Here, give us your plate.' Sam slid it across the table, lifting his cutlery so Gene could stack it under his own. He carried them through to the kitchen, went over to the sink and started running the water to fill the basin. He noted the tidy way Sam had worked as he cooked; everything was stacked neatly by the sink, ready to be washed up. _Well trained,_ thought Gene, again. He rolled up his sleeves and added some washing up liquid to the sink, stirring it through the running water to make bubbles. He slid the plates and cutlery in, started to wipe them clean even as the water ran. He was savouring the feeling of being full and thinking what an excellent Sunday this had turned out to be as he worked. He and Sam had spent the day exchanging conversation, TV on in the background, enjoying each others' company. They had laughed fit to burst more than once, and he had no idea why other than the fact that they were both drunk on each other as much as the beers they'd necked. There had been accidental-on-purpose body contact here and there. Nothing much, nothing that might have seemed unusual to a casual observer, but Gene felt alive every time Sam's hand touched his arm, or their legs brushed as they sat on the couch. As he thought this, he felt movement at his back. At first he thought it was only his imagination, then he realised that Sam had walked quietly in behind him.

Before he could turn his head, Sam's hands were on his waist and soft lips were on his neck. He felt Sam stretch on to his tiptoes to reach over the top of his collar. The feeling stunned him into stillness. He hadn't expected this to happen before they got to bed. He stood motionless, hands in the basin in front of him, as he felt slow kisses cross his neck and move into his hairline. Sam rubbed his face against the soft hair at the back of his neck, moving round to continue kissing the other side. Gene felt that stirring between his legs again, tilted his head to allow Sam better access. Sam reacted by sliding his hands down to Gene's hips, gently pulling himself closer in to the broad back, and kissing his way across Gene's neck again. Gene remained absolutely still, but his breathing had grown heavier. Hearing this, Sam pushed harder now so that their bodies were flat against each other, and Gene felt something he'd never expected to experience, let alone like; another man's hard cock against his arse. Even through several layers of material it was insistent, pressing and rubbing against him.

Sam slid one hand round to the front of Gene's trousers, where an answering bulge waited. He traced his fingers across the length of it, maddeningly gentle. Gene made a small noise, trying to keep it in his throat. Sam had stopped kissing him now, instead just breathing on the back of his neck in hot gusts as he ran his hand back and forth, until Gene had had enough and turned to face him. Sam looked as though he couldn't quite believe his own actions, but the hard shine in his eyes told another story. Gene leaned in and kissed him, hard, bringing his own wet hands to the back of Sam's head to pull him closer. Their tongues rolled against each other, and they both drew their hips in, enjoying the way this felt, rules forgotten. Sam gave Gene's tongue one last stroke with his own before drawing back and turning for the door. His tight arse led Gene across the living room and up the stairs, jeans straining against it, moulding it perfectly. When they got to the spare room Sam went in first, turned back as he reached the foot of the bed. Gene was only a step behind him, and didn't slow down as he came in, instead forcing himself on to Tyler and pushing them both back onto the bed. He felt Sam try to push him off, by reflex, and in a sweeping motion he grabbed both of Sam's wrists and shoved them upwards, over their heads. Sam continued to struggle, but also to kiss back with eager lips and fast breath.

Gene pinned Sam with his weight, transferred both the slim wrists into one hand and leaned on them as he ran the other down Sam's arm, down his side, ending on his hip. He rolled his own hips against the restrained man's, feeling with a rush of pleasure the eager way that they bucked upwards even as Sam continued to turn his wrists, trying to escape. He brought his free hand back round to start unbuttoning Sam's shirt, feeling how hot the smooth skin was underneath. When he reached Sam's belt, he roughly tugged the shirt out to finish unbuttoning, then ran his hand from stomach to chest, savouring the feeling of it, aware of Sam's continued struggles and a slight moan passing from his mouth. He took his hand round to Tyler's side, brushing a hard nipple on the way, and back down across his ribs to his waist. Still holding Sam captive with his bulk, he pushed himself up with the hand containing Sam's wrists, and started to unbutton his own shirt. He looked Sam dead in the eye as he did, noting with glee the mixed anger and desire he found there. Sam lay still for a moment as Gene undid his shirt, but when all the buttons were open he surprised the Guv with a sudden twist of his hands and a great tug downwards. Gene nearly lost his balance, and Sam took advantage of this to turn his body, tipping Gene off to the side. In a flash he was on top of him, straddling him at the waist, tearing off his own shirt. Then he descended, shoving Gene's shirt open and restricting his arms as he kissed him passionately. Gene kissed back, loving the mix of aggression and lust in the air. He'd never been like this with a woman. He was a big bloke, didn't want to hurt anyone, even if they said they liked it kinky. He'd been taught that women were fragile, to be protected. Tyler, on the other hand, could give as good as he got. Gene didn't have to hold back. This thought was a huge turn on, and he ran his tongue deep into Sam's mouth, loving the way it closed around him.

As he withdrew his tongue, he used the considerable strength in his arms to knock Sam's hands off his shirt, freeing himself. Sam toppled forward, their chests pressing together now, and Gene brought his mouth to Tyler's neck, biting it just hard enough. Sam tried to sit up again but Gene caught him round the shoulders and held him where he was, face buried in the fold of his collar. Sam got his hands up under him and flat onto the bed, then pushed his knees up enough to make a space between them. Instead of forcing himself off of Gene, though, he reached for his belt buckle and swiftly opened it, then his trousers. Feeling this, Gene let him go, and he sprang onto his feet, letting his jeans and, with a moment's hesitation, boxers fall to the ground. Gene sat up, removing his own shirt and taking in Sam's naked body. He made to stand up and was pushed back to the bed, Sam taking him by surprise with a hard shove. He fell backwards and felt Sam's eager hands at his trousers, opening them, tugging them down. He arched his back to lift his hips off the bed, and felt both remaining articles of clothing stripped away. He didn't dare look up.

Sam crouched by the bed, where he'd ended up after removing Gene's clothes, his head level with Gene's throbbing cock. Gene knew he was there, but felt suddenly weak, unable to move, not knowing what was about to happen. He knew what he wanted, that would obvious to anyone, but did he want it from Sam? Now? As he felt hot breath against his balls that question seemed ridiculous. Of course he did. No sooner had he thought so than Sam's tongue began to trace its way delicately around, making him shiver. The man's hands were on his thighs, pressing them apart, as he made delicate circles with the tip of his tongue, causing the skin there to tighten up and his dick to stiffen even further. He felt one hand slide off his leg, and after a moment felt Sam's shoulder begin to move in a slow rhythm; Sam was stroking his own cock as he licked Gene's balls, tongue edging closer to the base of Gene's dick. God, this was making him randy. He simultaneously never wanted it to stop and craved Sam's mouth elsewhere, somewhere more immediate.

He got his second wish. Sam's tongue ran wetly over the root of his cock, making him sigh and close his eyes. It returned, now running the entire length of it, and making a tight circle round the head. It felt exactly as Gene had imagined it would, when he'd felt Sam's tongue in his mouth before. Sam did it again, repeating exactly the same slow movement, and Gene groaned this time, muting the sound by clenching his teeth. Then he withdrew, and Gene snapped his eyes open. _Oh please_, he thought. _Please don't stop. _

Sam climbed on to the bed, and Gene moved himself so that he now lay at his full length, with his head on the pillows. He didn't dare to look into Sam's eyes, not knowing what he'd see. Instead he looked at Sam's body, eyes travelling down to the erect cock that Sam was still stroking slowly. He let himself look, amazed by how much the sight of it turned him on. Sam sped up a little, maybe turned on himself by the audience, then positioned himself between Gene's legs. He reached out and took Gene in his other hand, rubbing them both to the same, slow rhythm. Gene let his eyes close again, feeling the cold air on his skin and the warm hand working its magic. Then he felt Sam lean forward again and, without stopping with his hand, take the head of Gene's prick into his mouth. He worked his lips and tongue around it, sucking it, still building up the pressure with his hand. Gene thought he was still touching himself, too, and this was more exciting than ever. The next thing he felt was intense heat as Sam took more of him into his mouth, rubbing the underside with that clever tongue, moving his hand to squeeze Gene's balls into a delirious, delicious ache. _Jesus Christ_.

Gene felt unable to do anything but lie there, feeling Sam suck and lick his cock as though he'd done it hundreds of times before, feeling the excitement grow. His hands clenched the sheets under him, tugging them, releasing them again as he pushed his hips upwards, acting only on instinct. He felt Sam pull away suddenly and froze, guiltily. Sam only stopped for a moment, though, then went back to teasing him with the tip of his tongue. Gene decided that enough was enough, and reached down, lifting Sam's head away with his hand. Sam looked at him then, eyes naked and questioning. Gene shifted his legs to one side, and Sam knelt up, looking partly hurt and partly worried, as though wondering if he hadn't been good enough. Nothing could be further from the truth; it was too good, and Gene couldn't let it go on much longer without losing himself in the feeling. He didn't want that. He wanted them to feel the same things, come together in the end. He moved to a kneeling position himself, leaning in to kiss Sam's wet lips. He tasted the salt on them, then lowered himself onto his side. At first Sam didn't seem to know what he wanted, but after a second he realised and moved himself into position. Gene was now faced with another man's erection, and for a moment felt a wave of doubt. When Sam's mouth landed on him again, though, it was dispelled, and he reached out a hand to stroke the other man as he ran out his tongue and, only a little tentatively, ran it over the tip of Sam's cock. The taste of it wasn't what he'd expected; it was salty, not strong, not bitter. He took the head of it in his mouth, now, still working with his hand, and sucked gently. Sam did the same to him, making him groan around the dick in his mouth. Sam groaned back, letting him feel the vibrations it caused, and this tipped Gene into a state of strong, overwhelming lust.

He took more of Sam into his mouth, running almost the full length of him between his lips and back out again, amazed by how much this turned him on. It was the thrill of the forbidden, he knew, but he didn't care about the why. He continued to suck on Sam's hard dick, using his hand to jerk it into his mouth, feeling the same happen to his own and coming increasingly close to climax. He thought Sam was feeling the same, his cock had lost some of that rigid feel and was pulsing in his mouth and hand. He took his mouth away to pant 'I'm gonna come,' wanting Tyler to have the chance to stop before it was too late, desperately hoping that he wouldn't. It seemed that Sam was as caught up in the moment as Gene was, because this made him groan and push him mouth even further. The combined vibration and the feeling of his cock touching Tyler's throat sent a cry from Gene's mouth, before he returned it to its former place, lips tight around Sam's shaft, tongue working furiously against and around it. He began to move faster with both hand and mouth, as he thrust himself into the hot embrace below. The feeling of his full mouth, Sam's twitching cock, the humming of Sam groaning as he started to thrust in and out of Gene's hand and lips, all combined to send him into the dark space of a hard orgasm. He moaned loudly and suddenly he felt Sam's dick spasm, felt hot liquid spurt up against the roof of his mouth. He squeezed Sam in his hand as his own dick was rubbed and sucked until he was dizzy with the power of the release. Sam stopped coming a moment after he had, and he rolled his tongue around, bathing Tyler's prick before finally deciding to swallow. Sam did the same for him, then both of them rolled onto their backs, panting.

Gene ran his tongue round his own mouth, experimentally. He thought he knew why women complained about doing this - it wasn't exactly a single malt. It wasn't supposed to be, though, and for the intense pleasure he'd given - and been given in return - he thought it might be an even exchange. He swallowed again, wishing he'd brought a drink upstairs with him and wondering if there was a hipflask lying around in here somewhere. He'd have to wait a few minutes to get up and check; right now he needed to rest. It had been a busy ten minutes.

When they had recovered themselves, Sam and Gene had edged their way off the bed and into their respective clothes, with a certain amount of awkwardness and a certain lack of eye contact. Neither of them spoke, but when he finished buttoning up Gene glanced up at Sam. The man looked so unsure of himself, standing there in boxers and shirt, that Gene acted on instinct and reached out a hand to him. He touched his arm, and Sam started. Gene closed his hand round the narrow shoulder and squeezed. Sam's eyes looked at him nakedly again, showing confusion and hope in equal measures. Gene didn't know what exactly that hope was for, but guessed it might be some reassurance that everything was OK, that he hadn't gone too far or too fast. He gave him a brief, one-sided smile.

'You're full of surprises, you are,' he said. Sam smiled hesitantly back.

'Me? I think we both are...' he offered, his voice sounding a little shaken.

Gene nodded.

'You alright?'

Sam shrugged. 'Yeah - a bit weird. Never thought I'd find myself doing that.' It was Gene's turn to feel worried - had he pressured Sam into it? He didn't think so but the unfamiliar doubt was there nonetheless.

'Did you... I mean... Did you want to?' he asked, his turn to look for reassurance. Sam's face was still for a considering moment, then broke into a grin.

'Yeah, I did,' he answered. 'Did you... well... was it alright?'

'Alright? That, Sammy-boy, was the best blow job I've ever had in my life.'

They both laughed, and Gene stepped away to let Sam finish dressing.

'I'll get back down. Got a terrible thirst on me,' he said, smirking slightly. Sam snorted another laugh and nodded.

'Be right there,' he said, turning back to his shirt buttons.

Gene turned and headed back to the living room, which looked exactly as they'd left it, in defiance of the earth-shattering events that had just taken place in the bedroom. Gene saw his half-finished can on the table and dropped himself onto the sofa to finish it off. He found a cigarette to go with it, and lit up. He sat quietly, thinking things over. What he and Sam had just done was different to any encounter he'd had in the past; the initial roughness and the frantic stripping off were almost as unexpected as the act itself. He licked his lips, thinking of how it had felt to wrap them round Sam's dick. Something he'd have found repulsive only a few short weeks ago, and yet there he'd been, not only doing it but enjoying it. It was hard to believe.

He heard Sam come downstairs and shuffle round to the sofa. He sat down next to Gene, close to reach out and touch with very little effort, but not touching. Gene decided to put an end to that nonsense, given what they'd just been up to, and lifted his arm to drape it over the back of the couch behind Sam's head. Without looking over, Sam shuffled in to the half-embrace. Gene took a draw of his cigarette, tilting his head to blow the smoke in a dart straight up, and wrapped his arm round Sam, holding him lightly. He handed over his beer wordlessly, and Sam took a long, grateful sip before handing it back. This might be wrong, but damn it, it felt alright.

They sat like this on the couch, occasionally standing to get fresh cans but always returning to the same spot. There was a film on TV, and they half watched it, each more lost in his own thoughts than in the plot. Gene absently stroked Sam's shoulder with his thumb, and Sam thought it felt wonderful. He did feel a bit confused by his own desires, shocked by his eagerness earlier, but as long as Gene wasn't going to reject him, start a fight with him for being a bender, he thought he could figure the rest out in his own time. For now he'd accept it as best he could, enjoy being close and comfortable with someone again. Someone special. He'd better not say that out loud - sucking his dick was one thing, but talking like a fairy would be a step too far for Gene Hunt, he was sure of it. He smiled to himself, sipped his can, relaxed into the couch and the reassuring hug.

That night they slept wrapped up in each other, Sam's head in the hollow of Gene's shoulder. Sam had rarely felt so connected with anyone. They hadn't spoken much for the rest of the night, but Sam thought it was because they hadn't needed to. He had been so lonely, he hadn't realised fully how lonely until he had something to compare it to. Falling asleep with someone else, warm and safe, was wonderful.


	8. Author's Note

A very quick note to say thank you to all who have been reading, especially those who have left a review.

Final part of the story will be published daily over the next week.

mtc33 - I would love to send you a message, but your private messaging settings are set to 'off'. Switch 'em on!


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